“AAhhh!”
Moro shriekedin pain and surprise. Cyrus put a foot to her shoulder blade and pulled thesword free. She turned, unarmed, towards Cyrus, clutching her wounded stomach.
“I’ll destroyyour entire village for this!” Moro shrieked.
Cyrus wasalready in motion. He slashed out with a two-handed blow, hewing the queen’s headfrom her narrow body. The light in her remaining eye winked out, and her framefell limp to the floor.
“Not likethis!” Fibian shouted, his eyes wide, “What have youdone?”
He lookedmournfully at Cyrus, studying his face, his hands, his entire body.
“What have youdone? You cut down a defenseless woman. What have you become!”
“She murderedTier!” Cyrus shouted back, “She was going to murder you. She was going to murderus all. How many yeti has she killed just today? She fed klopstheir own young. She should have known better, and you were going to forgiveher? You were going to let her join us?”
Cyrus lookedtowards Edward. The tiny white spider would not meet his gaze.
“I did what Ihad to, to survive,” Cyrus shouted, “So we all could survive.”
“She was theonly one that had knowledge of the hune’s location,” Fibian retorted, “All the rest are dead. Who can help usnow?”
Cyrus staredat Fibian, fists clenched. Realization washed overhim. How were they going to find the hune?
“What you did,there is no coming back from,” Fibian said.
“Who says Iwant to come back,” Cyrus countered, shame and anger colliding.
He threw downhis sword and turned to leave the room. He caught his reflection in the brokenpicture mirror. He immediately grew dizzy. It could not be. He inspected hisbloody reflection. He appeared larger, much larger. He had a man’s frame. Hestood well over six feet, and his chest and shoulders had grown thick andbroad. He walked closer and studied his facial features in the fractured glass.His broken nose was broader and longer, and his jaw was wider, more square. Hebared his teeth. His eye teeth were pointed and fang-like. His brow had grownthicker too, and he had the beginnings of a beard. His hair had become darker,like it had been infused with iron, and his eyes were no longer blue, but thecolor of steel.
He looked backat Edward and Fibian. They stared at him as if hewere a ghost. He turned his back on them and ducked his head as he entered thepassage, returning to Moro’s lair.
Chapter 39
TRAP DOOR
CYRUS’ SKIN GREW COLD. He stepped out of thepassage and crossed over the fallen bookshelf. The sound of battle had ceasedwithin the fortress. A great yeti roar of victory echoed throughout the chamber.
Cyrus found alarge bearskin blanket on Moro’s bed. He pulled it off the bed and wrapped itaround his shivering shoulders. Then he walked to the door and entered the hall.
The room stankof blood, booze and burnt flesh. Dead klops, largeand small, littered the blood-stained floor. Yeti walked through the bodieswith rifles in hand. They drove their bayonets into any klopsstill breathing. Several yeti looked over at Cyrus and paused. Cyrus staredback, his eyes moving from one giant to the next. The creatures did not seem sogrand anymore. The large black yeti with the silver beard approached. Cyrus didnot move. The yeti looked him up and down, then held out his hand.
“You kept yourword. You opened the gates. We owe you much.”
Cyrus graspedhis large mitt and shook it.
“My name isStark,” the yeti said.
He passed Cyrusa skin of water.
“You lookweary. Warm yourself beside the fire. We will continue on after the queen.”
“She’s dead,”Cyrus replied.
Stark staredat him for a long moment. Cyrus could not read his expression. The yeti finallynodded his head and clapped Cyrus on the back.
“Get somerest. You’ve earned it.”
Starkcontinued on, shouting orders throughout the hall. Cyrus stared at thesurrounding furry beasts. The giants nodded to him, then carried on with theirtasks.
Cyrus found ablock of wood beside the nearest fire. Outside, a thick fog had become trappedwithin the mine. Greasy, black smoke mingled with the clean, gray mist. Cyrussat on the block, warming his bones, and drank deeply from the waterskin.
Had it allbeen in vain? They had come all this way to find Gammal,to find the hune, and now the one person who couldhave told them of the hune’s whereabouts was dead, cutdown by Cyrus’ hand. He had rescued his best friend, but all hope of saving hisvillage was gone.
They had weatheredthe North Sea and survived the mountains. They had infiltrated the klops mine and freed the yeti, but for what purpose?
He had become theeater of children, just as the prophecy had foretold. He had crushed Agulha, nearly cleaved Morte intwo, and decapitated Moro. He had kept his promise to Tier. Now Cyrus foundhimself friendless and lost.
A snow-whitespider appeared on his shoulder. Edward looked up at him with round sad eyes.
“I saw thelook on your face,” Cyrus said, still not used to the base in his voice, “You thinkI’m a murderer. You think what I did was wrong.”
“No,” Edwardsaid, his mouth bruised.
The small spider’svoice was quiet and unsure.
“I would havedone the same. I tried to do the same. She held me down and ripped out myteeth. I’m no use to anyone any more.”
Cyrus’ heartsank. He had saved his best friend, but not soon enough. He looked over at thetiny spider, at his swollen mouth, his white fur, his seven legs. Had Edwardnot lost enough? Cyrus wanted to cry, but he was done being weak.
“She said the blodbad on the surviving hunehave become twisted feeble half-breeds,” Edward continued, “She was going to useme like cattle, try to breed back a pure race.”
“You saved mefrom that hell. I was just shocked by it all. You’re not a boy any more. At leastnot physically. And that look in your eye. You’ve changed, and I’m worried.”
Cyrus saidnothing. He stared down at his wool socks. The big toe on his right foot pokedout of a hole in the muddy stocking.
“I know howyou feel,” Edward said, sorrow in his tone, “The guilt, the remorse. She wouldhave killed us all, sooner or later.”
“That’s justthe thing,” Cyrus said, peering into the fire, “I don’t feel anything. I don’tfeel regret; I don’t feel remorse.
