“No,”Cyrus moaned, lowering his weapon.
Theirplan to rescue Gammal had failed before it had evenstarted.
“Thisway!” a heavy voice demanded.
Afifth batalha stepped from behind a pillar, furtherwithin the room.
“Angels,”Edward breathed, hidden within Cyrus’ jacket.
Cyrusrecognized the twisted face and tattooed arms. It was the large klops they had crossed when first entering the mine. Theone that had cut off his kin’s arm and eaten it. He was the biggest of themall. The gills in his neck flared and the veins in his arms swelled.
Thefour batalha at their flank began to advance,snarling. Ungur raised her arms in surrender and startedto march forward. One of the four batalha knockedCyrus’ helmet from his head and shoved a rifle barrel into his back. Cyrusstumbled, then followed Ungur’s lead. The remainingthree brutes prodded Tier with their weapons and cursed her in some crude klops tongue. She growled and swatted at the klops, but finally succumbed to their demands.
Thelargest klops led them through the chamber, across asmooth granite floor. The four riflemen brought up the rear. To their left andright, set into the living rock, four yawning fireplaces burned with halved trees.Several large barrels, reeking of lamp oil, sat stacked against the eastern andwestern walls.
Cyruspeered up. He had never seen a ceiling so high and so grand. The candlelightfrom the many crystal chandeliers was barely enough to expose the massivewooden beams supporting the mountain above.
Atthe back of the hall stood a towering throne, cut from the living stone. Theseat’s many black steps began narrow at the foot of the chair, then fanned out asthey descended to the floor.
“MyQueen, we have visitors,” a tall, bony klops said,standing on the first step.
Thehunch-backed creature stood just under six feet, with oily white hair growingfrom the back of his tight scalp.
Astranger, coddling what looked to be a newborn baby, sat atop the lofty throneof white cushions. The queen, as the water klops calledher, was clearly female. Her silhouette was long and delicate in her flowingblack gown, yet her facial features were difficult to detect behind a lengthydark veil.
Thequeen rose and began to walk down the narrow stairway. Her strides were like a bigcat’s, creeping through tall grass.
Oncloser inspection, Cyrus found that the queen’s dress looked rather old andworn. The edges of the gown were frayed and its train was full of small tears.Her hands too were covered in tattered spider silk gloves, yet the queen couldnot hide the fact that, unlike her four-fingered klops,her hands had five fingers. All were slender and webbed. She seemed to haveeyes only for the creature in her arms, as she approached Cyrus and the others.Finally, her attention turned towards her captives. The queen’s posture slackenedand her confidence seemed to wane.
“Whatis this, General Morte?” she asked, a subtle trillaccenting her throaty voice.
Cyrussmelled sweet perfume.
“Spies,conspiring to free the slaves,” the largest klopsanswered.
Behindthe veil, Cyrus swore he could see a blue glow. Its hue seemed unnaturalsomehow.
“Welldone, General,” the queen said, a hint of caution in her tone.
Shepassed the small creature in her arms over to General Morte.The general took what looked to be an infant klops andheld it by one leg. The baby began to wail like a feral cat, its tiny gillsflaring.
“Donot eat it here,” the queen demanded, “It sickens me to see you barbariansfeast.”
Thenewborn’s teeth were long and pointed like barbs, and its flesh loose and wrinklylike an old man’s throat. Cyrus covered his ears, horrified by the child’scries.
“Thankyou, my Queen,” the general said, bowing and turning to leave.
“CouncilorAgulha,” the queen demanded.
Theold klops moved to his mistress’ side. The queen whisperedinto his large, whiskered ears.
“Bringthe imposter to me,” Councilor Agulha ordered.
Twoof the four batalha lowered their rifles and clutchedCyrus by the arms.
“No,let me go!”
Theycarried him forward and forced him to his belly. The councilor kneeled down andgrasped Cyrus by the jaw.
“Itis not wendigo or yeto,” he said, inspecting Cyrus’teeth.
Cyrustwisted and recoiled. The creature’s webbed fingers felt like greasy, leathertongs.
“Youobviously talk?” Agulha said, “Who are you, and wheredo you come from?”
Cyrus’heart pounded and his mind whirled. He was speechless, staring into thecreature’s milky, blue eyes.
“Ifyou do not talk, I will be forced to make you,” Agulhasaid.
Whatcould Cyrus tell him? Where was he supposed to start?
“Verywell. Break his arms.”
“No!”
Cyrusfelt the two batalha begin to crush his wrists. His shoulderjoints started to separate. He felt Edward scramble free from his jacket. Deathwas near.
“Aaah!”
Thefirst batalha’s grips loosened.
“What,no!” the second klops shrieked.
Cyrusfelt both brutes disengage. Then he felt himself showered in sand. His handsbecame fists.
“Witchery,”the old klops shouted.
Ignoringhis ankle, Cyrus sprang from the pile. He grasped an arrow from his quiver andtackled Councilor Agulha to the floor. He pressed thearrowhead to the klops’ sinewy neck, breaking theskin.
“Please,no, I am unarmed!” the councilor pleaded.
Cyrushesitated. He had never killed a defenseless foe before.
Usingthe distraction, Tier kicked one of the remaining two batalhain the stomach, disarming him. Then she grasped the klops’rifle and pulled him to her chest. The second batalhafired. Tier used her captive as a shield, the round penetrating the klops’ heart. She returned fire. The lead ball ripped openthe beast’s throat.
Allfour klops lay dead on the floor, two shot dead andtwo reduced to mounds of sand.
“Doit,” Tier ordered Cyrus, “Or next time it may be you at the end of hisblade.”
Again,Cyrus hesitated. Ungur picked up a fallen rifle. Tierdropped her empty gun and collected a loaded one off the floor. She movedtowards the queen.
“Geton the ground,” Tier demanded.
“Ido not think so,” the queen said, holding her head high.
“Doit, or I’ll put a bullet clean through your face,” Tier said.
“Getdown, or I’ll turn you to sand like I did the others,” Cyrus bluffed, stillkneeling on Councilor Agulha.
“Iwould like to see you try,” the queen replied.
Cyrusfelt Edward crawling within his collar, getting ready to pounce.
“Enoughof this,” Tier said.
Shepulled the trigger.
BANG!
Ina flash of black silk, the queen ducked the bullet and pounced on top of Cyrus.Her left hand darted towards his shoulder. With her right, she pinned his neckto the floor. She held the squirming Edward to his face.
“Don’thurt him, please!” Cyrus begged.
“Ifyou want me to keep my end of
