Cyrus LongBones Box Set

by Jeremy Mathiesen

  Chapter 4

  TIER

  CYRUS SWAM THROUGH ENDLESS DREAMS. His thoughts twisted and spun as if caught in deep ocean currents. He felt warm and safe, yet he knew it would not last. Something cold and menacing was coming. How much time had passed? Passed since when? Where was he? What path had led him to this unknowable place?

  “Who are you?” asked a deep and fierce voice.

  Cyrus felt his system slowly wake. He was impossibly cold. Every part of his body ached or was tingly and numb. Was he on his ship? Was he dead? How long had he been unconscious?

  “Who are you, and why are you here?”

  He tried to remember how he had gotten there. Where? His memories were fragmented and frigid, as murky as the North Sea. He attempted to raise his head. The effort was too much. His vision swam with tiny white stars.

  “Where have you come from?” a second voice asked, “Are you in league with the water klops? Do you serve their queen?”

  Water klops? Cyrus felt his face gripped in thick, leathery hands. He opened his eyes and looked about. He was within the ship’s cabin, but everything was on its side. Objects such as wooden shelves, rusted pans and broken glass scattered the floor. The wind gusted through shattered windows.

  “I said, who are you?” the first voice demanded.

  The thick hands shook Cyrus’ head. He looked forward and found two furry giants standing over him, the nearest inches from his face. Cyrus felt he should be more afraid, but did not have the energy.

  The first creature’s fur was as yellow as straw. Her eyes were deep and dark, and her teeth were white and strong. The second beast stood over the first’s shoulder. She was the color of snow. She aimed a strange bow-like weapon at Cyrus’ head.

  Cyrus tried to speak. A wave of dizziness forced his eyes shut.

  “We’ll take them back for interrogation,” the blonde giant ordered.

  “Runa will not approve,” the snow colored beast replied.

  “I will deal with my mother,” the blonde said.

  She drew Cyrus’ knife from the sheath on his hip and stowed it in her belt. Then she picked him up and laid him over her hairy shoulder. Her fur was thick and coarse on his face. She smelled of musk and the forest. Cyrus felt the creature’s heart beat like a heavy drum within her thick body. Her lungs sounded like a blacksmith’s bellows. The giant seemed at least eight feet tall. What was she going to do to him?

  The creature carried Cyrus out of the twisted cabin and climbed down the remains of the broken ship. Cyrus strained to look around. It was night. The stars were many and the moon was full and bright. He saw the ship’s tiller lying sideways. Was that where he had last seen Edward? Edward? Where was Edward? He felt something small shift in his shirt pocket. Thank the Angels, he thought. Edward had somehow found his way into Cyrus’ shirt, or had he put the spider there?

  Cyrus looked over at the second giant as she stepped out of the cabin. Fibian lay over the beast’s shoulder. Was Fibian alive? Cyrus fought to stay conscious.

  The two creatures climbed off the broken wreck and stepped knee-deep into the ocean. They aimed their weapons towards the shoreline as if about to be ambushed.

  The ship had washed ashore a white, forested land. Through groggy eyes, Cyrus looked towards the sea. Some ways beyond the shore, the ocean crashed over a jagged reef. Why was that reef so familiar? An image of a mast, splitting in two, flashed before his eyes.

  The giants waded through the lapping waves and picked their way up a snowy pebbled beach. The stones babbled and grated under the giants’ heavy footsteps. Like hunters, they pressed into the forest and moved through the trees with silence, their weapons at the ready. All around, the white forest glowed with the light of the moon.

  Cyrus’ exhaustion took hold. He drifted in and out of consciousness. He saw smudges of woods, beaches and mountains, mixed with images of beasts, turtles and endless seas. How much time passed, he never knew.

  The creatures’ trek led them to a jagged cove. The cove was protected by steep cliffs and harbored a towering, cliffside ice fortress built over a frozen waterfall.

  Cyrus coughed. The air was acrid and sour. Heat had melted the stronghold’s spires, giving their peeks a waxen feel. Some sort of projectiles had blasted holes in several of the fortress’s crystal walls. Black slag seeped from the walls and pooled like frozen blood on its broken steps.

  The giants traversed the cove through a tunnel and along a narrow cliffside path. The sea crashed against the rocks far, far below. Cyrus grew woozy. He closed his eyes.

  From there, in Cyrus’ memories the trail became flat and winding. After some time, the giants’ path took them into the coastal foothills.

  The mountains bordering the coast seemed dizzying, stabbing fatally through the clouds, and their forests appeared never-ending, vanishing into the murk above.

  The giants came to the base of a steep hillside. There stood the hollowed-out trunk of a massive fallen tree. The creatures scanned the surrounding forest. Then they stepped within the mossy trunk. The snow-colored giant pulled on a vine dangling from the shadowy roof. The sound of gears grinding came from the ground below. The floor began to move. It descended into the earth. The mouth of the trunk rose away slowly and was replaced by the entrance to a dimly glowing cave.

  Cyrus felt the blonde creature’s large muscles tense. Two silver-tipped spears thrust out of the shadows.

  “Who goes there?” a deep voice growled.

  “Tier and Skoven,” the blonde giant said, “We’ve discovered two intruders shipwrecked off the coast. They are near death.”

  Cyrus heard whispering from within.

  “Enter,” the first voice commanded.

  The two giants carried the trio into a massive den. Ornate gold and silver lanterns burned on the walls. A large bed of coals glowed hot and dull in the center of the chamber. Through half-shut eyes, Cyrus spied several large, dark figures hunched in the shadows. All stood silent, watching Cyrus and Fibian.

  “Tier, you should not have brought them here.”

  Cyrus looked towards the voice. A gray creature, about seven feet tall, limped out of the darkness. The old female’s back was hunched, and her chest drooped low and heavy.

  “But mother, they would have died had we left them,” the blonde named Tier said.

  “Maybe that would have been for the best,” the mother replied.

  “Runa, you have let the klops and their queen get the better of you,” the snow colored Skoven said, her voice rising.

  “My people’s safety comes before the lives of intruders,” Runa countered.

  The gray fur on her back bristled.

  “We do not know who they are,” Tier growled, “we must find out. If more come, we want to avoid another ambush.”

  Runa’s eyes wavered. She said no more.

  Tier carried Cyrus towards the bed of coals. Three more giants laid out a spread of goose down pillows beside the glowing embers. Runa moved towards Cyrus. She stripped his icy clothes off and threw them into a pile near the coals.

  “No, Edward…” Cyrus whispered, barely able to hear his own voice.

  Runa took Cyrus from Tier and laid him down on the makeshift bed.

  “The tips of their toes and the blond one’s pointed ears have cold rot,” she said.

  She took Fibian from Skoven.

  “If they live, they will be lucky to keep their flesh.”

  “The dark one already lost a hand not long ago,” Tier said.

  Runa rested Fibian next to Cyrus. Skoven brought out a large white bearskin blanket. She laid it over the two. Then she placed heated stones beneath the blanket and around their bodies.

  “Their cuts seem superficial,” Tier said, “The light skinned one’s been drifting in and out of consciousness. The dark one has yet to awake.”

  “They have the cold sickness,” Runa said.

  “Will they live?” Tier asked.

  “If they serve the klops and their queen,”
Runa replied, “They had best pray they do not.”

  Chapter 5

  THE YETI

  “WAKE UP!”

  Cyrus smelt a sharp, biting odor. The scent jolted him awake. Where was he? What had happened? His memories were a wash of snow and shattered ice. His head ached. The tips of his toes and ears burned as if on fire. He looked about. He was within a massive cavern, surrounded by large creatures obscured in shadow. What in Kingdom? Cyrus’ heart quickened. There was something familiar about the cave. The air smelled humid and stuffy, like dog mixed with campfire. Cyrus reached for his knife. He felt only skin. He was naked beneath fur blankets. Where was his knife? His ears stung and he reached to scratch them.

  “Do not touch them,” a beastly voice ordered, “They have cold rot.”

  Cold rot? Cyrus looked up. A large creature covered in gray shag stood over him, holding a glass jar of fluid.

  “Who are you and where do you come from?” the giant demanded.

  The muscles under the creature’s loose flesh swelled like thick roots beneath mossy earth.

  “Holy Sea Zombie!” Cyrus blurted.

  He tried to scramble away. He became caught up in a large fur blanket.

  “Do not move,” a snow-colored giant said, stepping forward.

  She drew a large knife from a belt buckled around her waist. A blonde giant waded in front of the snow colored beast. She took the glass jar from the gray female, then moved towards a mound lying next to Cyrus. Cyrus recognized the shape beneath the fur.

  “Fibian?” he said, pulling back the blanket.

  The froskman lay unconscious in the bed of animal skins, naked and pale. The blonde giant waved the glass jar beneath Fibian’s nose. Like paper lanterns, a blue glow slowly ignited behind Fibian’s dark eyelids. He inhaled deeply.

  “His eyes. What is he?” the old gray giant asked, taking a step backward.

  Fibian’s eyes opened a crack. His gaze shone through. The surrounding creatures let out hushed gasps.

  “Fibian, are you all right?” Cyrus asked.

  The froskman nodded his head, his eyes half open.

  “Edward. Where’s Edward?” Fibian asked, his voice hoarse.

  “There are more of you?” the old gray giant asked.

  Edward! Cyrus had last seen him on the ship’s tiller, or was it in his shirt pocket?

  “My clothes?”

  Cyrus scanned his surroundings. A large bed of embers lay beyond his feet. Near the embers, the creatures had draped his and Fibian’s clothing over three large water-polished stones. Cyrus shifted forward and retrieved his crisp, dry shirt. His body felt stiff and burnt from the cold.

  “Edward, you here?” he asked.

  The giants looked uneasy. Cyrus searched his pockets. He found his best friend curled up in a tiny ball of white.

  “You’re here. Thank the Angels,” Cyrus said.

  “What do you have there?” the blonde giant demanded.

  Cyrus could not tell whether or not Edward was breathing.

  “Edward,” Cyrus said, gently prodding his furry body, “Please, wake up.”

  “What is this?” the snow colored giant asked, “If this is a trick…”

  She reversed her grip on her blade.

  “He’s my friend,” Cyrus said, “He’s been poisoned. We have to do something.”

  Cyrus frantically looked about the cave. He had been there before, he was sure of it. The gray female limped forward. Runa. That was her name, Cyrus remembered.

  “Put out your hand,” Runa said to Cyrus.

  She took the glass jar from Tier. Tier! That was the blonde one’s name. It was slowly coming back to him.

  Cyrus felt helpless. He held out his hand, just as he was told. Runa swirled the container beneath Edward’s body. Cyrus recognized the sharp biting odor.

  “What is that?” he asked.

  “If he is alive, this should revive him,” Runa said, her mouth broad and her forehead high.

  “Come on,” Cyrus said, nudging his friend, “Please.”

  The blodbad did not move.

  “Wake up.”

  Cyrus prodded him harder. A small pool of black fluid sputtered from Edward’s lips. Then one of his seven legs kicked at Cyrus’ finger. Edward began to twitch, coughing up more of the black bile.

  “It’s okay, Edward. It’s me, Cyrus.”

  “Cyrus?” Edward said, “The Sea Zombie!”

  Edward leaped to his feet, hissing like a hell cat. His two long fangs sprang from his gums and several milky white eyes bulged from beneath his fur. The snow-colored giant stepped forward, raising her knife. Cyrus held a hand up in protest.

  “Edward, it’s okay,” he said, “We defeated her. She’s lying headless on the floor of that torture chamber. You did it. You saved us.”

  “We got her? We beat Rorroh?” Edward asked.

  His fur began to settle and his fangs slowly receded. Then he closed his many eyes, leaving only the largest two remaining.

  “A spider that talks? Tier asked, “How is this possible?

  “Rorroh, the Sea Zombie?” Runa asked, “What lies are these?”

  “They are no lies,” Fibian said, raising himself onto his maimed arm, “The boy fought the Warrior Witch and won. He is the savior prophesied.”

  “I won’t ask again,” Runa said, taking the knife from the snow colored giant, “Who are you, and where do you come from?”

  “My name is Cyrus LongBones,” Cyrus said, holding Edward in one hand, and raising the other in surrender, “These are my friends, Edward and Fibian. We come from an island far, far away from here.”

  Cyrus told the creatures everything, from his discovering the Jim Oddfoot journal and learning of the prophecy, to his drinking dragon’s blood and battling Rorroh. The giants listened to every word in silence.

  “My people do not have long to live,” Cyrus continued, “Their only hope is the giant hune. We’re hoping the yeti can lead us to this hune.”

  “The Sea Zombie?” Tier said, wide-eyed.

  “Impossible,” Runa said.

  “Are you the yeti?” Fibian asked.

  Tier nodded.

  “I am Tier,” she said.

  She gestured to the snow colored giant standing next to her.

  “Skoven and I found you shipwrecked west of here.”

  Then she turned to the old gray creature.

  “And this is my mother, Runa. She is our leader. For the past three days, she has tended to your wounds. The yeti you see before you are all that are left of our kingdom.”

  “All that’s left?” Edward asked, his voice barely a whisper.

  Runa turned to Tier. She gave her daughter a look of warning.

  Tier continued, “Our kind have reigned over these shores for centuries, expanding our wealth of knowledge and envied by many. None were more jealous than the water klops.”

  Edward shivered in Cyrus’ hand.

  “Water klops?” Edward gasped.

  Tier gathered up several cushions near the pit of coals and sat down her towering frame. Her movements seemed exaggerated by her long body, her loose fatty flesh shifting over thick tendons and cord-like muscles.

  “At first, the klops were weak, small like you,” she said, “maybe smaller. They would come out of the sea in large numbers, attempting to posture and frighten us off. They were cowardly and easily driven away.”

  Runa came and stood at her daughter’s side.

  “For a time, they came no more,” Runa said, “Then we began to see black smoke rise high in the mountains. We sent out a reconnaissance party to find the origins of the fires. They did not return. We sent out a second group. Neither was ever heard from again. For a year or so the fires carried on until one night, the klops attacked us in our palace.”

  “The water klops had changed,” Tier said, “grown larger, more vicious, and for the first time they had a leader. Though their leader was not of their kind, the creature was clever. They had weapons and technologie
s the likes of which we had never seen. The klops rained balls of flame down on our fortress, and cut down our kin with staffs of lead and fire.”

  Runa tossed a stone into the coals. The rock sparked and snapped amongst the embers.

  “Like many here,” Runa said, “Tier and I were buried under a wall of ice. Some took their children and hid in the forest. Others, too injured to move, the klops slaughtered with poisoned blades. Most were rounded up and taken into the mountains. Any help we could have afforded you went with them.”

  “I don’t understand?” Cyrus said.

  “The oldest and wisest of our kind was Gammal,” Runa explained, “If any of our people knew of this hune, it would have been him, but he was taken with the rest.”

  “What do we do now?” Cyrus asked.

  “We have no choice,” Fibian said, “We must find this Gammal.”

  Cyrus swallowed hard.

  “You’re right,” he said, “The hune is dying. My village is crumbling. Rorroh will stop at nothing. There’s no turning back. We have to keep pushing forward.”

  Edward seemed to shrink ever so slightly in Cyrus’ hand.

  “It is suicide,” Runa said, “If two groups of yeti vanished, yeti that knew these mountains like they knew their own faces, how do you plan to survive?”

  “The same way we survived the Sea Zombie,” Cyrus replied, pulling his blanket up over his bony shoulders, “We’re tougher than we look.”

  “We are yeti,” Runa said, “We do not believe in prophecy or superstition. We believe in what can be weighed and measured. If it were not for Skoven and my daughter, you three would already be dead. Never mind the klops and their leader, you would be hunted by wolves, trolls, and whatever else lurks up in those mountains. You would not last one night.”

  “They will if I guide them,” Tier said.