Cyrus fell tothe ground, gasping for air. Furious and clumsy, he stabbed the klops through the foot. The batalhahopped, tripped and fell to the snow. The creature rolled and groaned in agony.Cyrus lunged and grasped forward, climbing on top of the brute.
“This is forTier!” he roared, as he buried his blade in the villain’s throat.
“Traitor, get em!” one of the remaining three beasts said.
They came arounda mound of snow and dirt, raised their bows and took aim at Cyrus.
Thwack!
A black boltstruck the farthest klops in the arm.
“I’ve beenhit!”
Two bluelights flashed out of the night. Fibian landed on thebeast’s back. Using his blade, he opened the klop’sneck, gill to gill. The second batalha turned andfired. Fibian flipped off the first batalha’s back. He took the arrow, mid-air, on hismechanical arm. Gripping his bow with his steel claw, he released a missile ofhis own. The arrow struck the klops between the eyes.The creature fell dead.
The last klops lost his nerve and retreated back between the leathertents, towards his platoon.
“Cave weirds!Cave weirds are attacking us!” the creature shouted, stirring the troops.
Fibian leaped over to Cyrus and helped him to his feet.
“Are you allright, young Master?” Fibian asked.
Cyrus’ searedflesh felt raw and his ankle throbbed. He removed his helmet and spat blood.
“I’m okay,” hesaid, feeling his fractured nose.
“You cannotfight out of anger,” Fibian said, pulling the arrow fromhis yeti-made arm, “We must fight with strategy if we are to defeat a force ofsuperior numbers.”
Cyrus nodded. Fibian was right. He was going to get them both killed ifhe continued on like this. The froskman picked up twoklops bows and handed one to Cyrus.
“We must pickup as many arrows as we can find,” Fibian said, chargingthe pump on his metal arm.
The twofriends collected the quivers off the three dead batalhaand divided up the arrows.
“The nightwill be our ally,” Fibian said.
He retreated intothe shadows cast by the large klops tents. Cyrussecured his helmet and followed, ducking low.
The pair stoppedat a large boulder, near the eastern edge of the mine, and looked out over thebattlefield. The yeti had reinforced their positions within the pits but weremaking no headway. Their defenses resembled beetle shells. The armor platingflickered and shimmered with the movement of the giants beneath. Arrows were nolonger enough to weaken the yeti defenses. Smaller water klopswere sent in with sword and shield to harass the giants. The shells shiftedopen. Several hairy yeti thrust out and stabbed the klopswith spears. The giants then dragged the fiends within the bellies of the ironbeasts. With each counter-attack, the klops struckthe yeti with arrows, spears and rocks, weakening their numbers.
“We mustinspire fear in the klops,” Fibianwhispered, “Target the largest, most visible in the frontline. Make sure therest see.”
Cyrus kneltdown, leaning out from behind the rock. He chose his targets carefully. He heldthe bow as best he could with his left hand. With his right, he nocked an arrow and drew it to the corner of his mouth. Hetargeted the largest klops he could find in thefrontline. The missile sang over the troop’s heads. It went wide of its mark,sinking deep into the lower back of a large, fat klops.The brute hollered and screamed, groping helplessly at his surroundingcomrades. Fibian released his own arrow. A second klops suffered the same fate but to the back of the neck.The witnesses looked over their shoulders, towards the encompassing darkness.Blind terror took hold.
Cyrus and Fibian continued their assault on the eastern line. Theplatoon captains lost control of their soldiers. The yeti seemed to sense this.They emerged from their pits, taking ground on their eastern flank.
Fibian tapped Cyrus on the shoulder, gesturing for him to follow. The paircircled back towards the fortress doors, keeping to the cliffs. They foundcover behind a large stack of iron plates. Fibianpointed to the line of archers, protected by the front line, picking away atthe distant yeti.
Cyrus’ and Fibian’s arrows thrummed out of the murk. Their projectilesfound gaps in the archers’ armor. Purple blood spilled across the snow. Severalarchers spun and blindly returned fire. Some killed their own in the confusion.Several arrows rained down on Cyrus’ and Fibian’sposition. Fibian caught one with his good hand. Fourmore shattered on the small iron plate Cyrus slid over his head.
Cyrus and Fibian fired the last of their arrows. The klops’ northern line lay in disarray.
“Let’s go,”Cyrus said.
He crawledfrom his cover and collected a short sword from a lifeless klopslaying in the snow. The enemy weapon felt poorly weighted. He did not trust itsiron.
“One moment,young Master,” Fibian said.
The froskman dressed in the dead klops’headgear and chest piece. Together they crept past cold blacksmith’s stationsand mounds of raw ore. They delved into a line of smaller klops,doing their best to blend in. The fiends were too preoccupied arguing overorders to take notice of two stray soldiers. With the swiftness and guile of apickpocket, Fibian punctured livers and piercedkidneys. The dying klops spread further panic amongthe troops.
Cyrus mounteda mound of crushed rocks and peered across at the yeti line. The yeti hadbroken into two advancing groups. One pushed northwest, the other northeast.Both forced the klops back towards their hall. Thegiants struck out from behind their defenses, killing the enemy three at atime.
Cyrus watchedas the white yeti, Vinter, broke rank. He chargedfour storming, frontline batalha. He roared in rage,his long beard blowing back across his shoulders. The klopsstruck out at the giant and circled the snowy beast. Vinterparried their thrusts using an iron club. He countered with a sweeping blow ofhis own. The bludgeon struck the brutes in the midsection, breaking arms andribs alike. Vinter howled in fury and finished the klops off with four brutish blows.
Crack!
Somethingpunched the white giant
