Cyrus LongBones Box Set

by Jeremy Mathiesen

  “Vinter, it is I, Tier. We must speak with Dr. Lege.”

  The creature stared at Cyrus and Fibian through starved, weary eyes. Cyrus removed his helmet and gloves and held his hands up in surrender.

  “Is this some sort of fool klops trick?” the yeti asked.

  “No trick,” Tier said.

  “What are they?” Vinter said, gesturing towards Cyrus and Fibian.

  “If it was not for them,” Tier said, “I would be lost in the depth of a cursed volcano. They are here to help.”

  Vinter paused for a moment, seeming to weigh Tier’s words.

  “Through here,” he said, holding open the cone-shaped tent.

  The group ducked through the flap of the big deerskin shelter. To the yeti, the inside must have been awkward and cramped, but to Cyrus, it was the size of a house. The smell of damp firewood filled the room.

  “Who are they, and why are they here?” grunted a tanned, female yeti.

  She crouched beside a fire, in the center of the shelter, tending to a large teapot.

  “Do you not recognize your own kin, Ungur?” Vinter asked, peeking through the door, “It is Tier, Runa’s daughter. She is here for a word with Dr. Lege.”

  “She escaped the other camp?” Ungur asked.

  “What other camp?” Tier replied.

  There was a rustling at the door. Three other yeti ducked into the tent.

  “We received word that there was a newcomer from the other camp,” a black, hunch-backed elder said.

  To his right crouched a crimson female, and to his left hunched an older, gray yeti.

  Across the space, a large, silver mound of fur rolled over on a mattress of dried grass.

  “Who is there?” the ancient yeti asked, furrowing his bushy eyebrows, “Vinter, who have you brought us?”

  The bedridden elder’s beard looked almost twice as long as most, and his body twice as thin. Tier stepped around the fire, across a floor of animal pelts, and moved to the old male’s side.

  “Dr. Lege, it is I, Tier. Runa’s daughter.”

  “You escaped the other mine?” Dr. Lege asked.

  “What other mine?” Fibian replied, removing his helmet.

  The surrounding yeti let out stifled gasps. The doctor stared at Fibian and Cyrus as if they had appeared out of thin air.

  “They are allies, here to help,” Tier said, touching the old yeti’s shoulder.

  “Did they help you escape?” Dr. Lege asked.

  “Escape where?” Cyrus said.

  “The other prison mine, where our families are being held captive,” the black, hunch-backed yeti said.

  Dr. Lege stared at Tier skeptically.

  “My mother, the others and I were never taken prisoner,” Tier said, “We were left for dead after the attack. We found safe hiding. Most are still there.”

  “Safe hiding, how?” Dr. Lege asked, trying to rise out of bed.

  The mattress snapped and twisted under the creature’s long frame.

  “Stop this nonsense,” Ungur said, moving to help Dr. Lege, “Do not get him all worked up over lies. He needs rest.”

  “I speak the truth,” Tier growled, “I left them not four or five nights ago, all safe and secure.”

  “In some klops prison camp,” Ungur retorted.

  “Not at all,” Tier said, “They are safe on their own. I promise you.”

  “They did not escape?” Dr. Lege said, his pale gray eyes wide.

  “They were never taken prisoner,” Tier said, “During the attack, many of our people were captured, but many also hid, or were buried under parts of the fortress and were left for dead. Mostly the young and old, or injured, like I. When the klops returned to find stragglers, we had already found hiding.”

  “My daughters are alive?” Vinter asked, his voice hoarse.

  Tier nodded. The white yeti exhaled a long, slow breath.

  “We have been held captive by a lie?” Dr. Lege asked.

  The yeti seemed to search for truth within Tier’s dark eyes.

  “I do not know. What have you been told?” Tier asked.

  “That there is another camp, like this one,” Dr. Lege said, beginning to cough, “Water klops are terrible craftsmen and blacksmiths. They need us to build their armor and cannons for some great army. We try to teach them, but they do not learn. We were told that if we did not submit to their demands, they would slaughter our families in the other mine and feed on their bones.”

  The old doctor rolled to his back with a rattling sigh.

  “Are you all right, father?” Ungur asked, giving the newcomers an unwelcome glare.

  “Trust me, what I say is true,” Tier said, “We are here to free you.”

  “Free us?” Ungur scoffed, “One woman and two small strangers? You will only get our families and us killed.”

  “These small strangers, as you put it,” Tier growled, “survived the North Sea, a water klops ambush, killed mountain trolls, and fended off whatever those creatures were back within that volcano. They claim to have faced the Trollmann and survived as well, left her headless and handless on some far away island. And after what I have seen, I tend to believe them,” she gestured to Cyrus.” Look at the boy, look at his ears. He is clearly alveling. He may even be the savior prophesied. There is more to these creatures than their size.”

  “The Child Eater?” Dr. Lege gasped.

  Cyrus’ flesh rippled.

  “Never mind legend and superstition,” Vinter said, “How do you plan to free us?”

  “That is what we must find out,” Fibian said, his eyes glowing blue, “What kind of threat do those cliff cannons pose?”

  “If the klops barred all escape from the pit, they could wipe the entire camp out in under an hour.”

  “We must find a way to destroy those cannons,” Fibian said, “Without those cannons, we could easily overrun them.”

  “What about their rifles and poisoned weapons?” Ungur asked.

  “They can be overcome.”

  “And we must find the one named Gammal,” Edward said, appearing on Cyrus’ shoulder.

  Dr. Lege and the other five yeti stared at the snow-white spider as if he were a ghost.

  “What is that?” the ancient yeti asked.

  “I told you there was more to these creatures than meets the eye,” Tier said, “This is Edward. He and Cyrus are in need of Gammal’s counsel. Like us, Cyrus’ and Edward’s home is in grave danger.”

  “Gammal was taken prisoner into the fortress’ dungeons,” Vinter said, “No one has seen him in months.”

  “Is there any way we could break him free?” Cyrus asked.

  “Your disguises will not fool the queen,” Vinter said, “You will be slaughtered by her batalha the moment you cross the gates.”

  “Batalha?” Fibian asked.

  “Batalha are the queen’s creation,” Vinter replied, “They are much larger and more fierce than normal klops, for they are nurtured on their own young. There is a lone female klops hidden somewhere within the fortress. Her newborns give the batalha ten times the strength of a normal soldier.”

  “They eat their own young?” Cyrus gasped.

  “There must be another way in, other than the gates,” Fibian said.

  “That is the only way,” Ungur replied.

  “What about the chimneys, above the gates?” Edward asked.

  “The chimneys?” Fibian said.

  “Impossible,” Vinter said,” They are high above the mine and they lead to roaring fires.”

  “You would have to climb unseen into the cliffs,” the old black hunch-backed yeti said, standing near the door, “And if you did not get stuck inside the shafts, you would have to scale down one of the four chimneys. If you did not fall to your death or burn up like a leaf, you would be inside the main chamber, surrounded by all of the queen’s guards.”

  “Child Eater?” Dr. Lege repeated.

  He looked towards Tier.

  “You would have us trade
one evil for another?”

  Tier said nothing.

  Dr. Lege waved the newcomers out.

  “Leave us, now,” he ordered, “Vinter will gather the rest of the elders. We must discuss what all this means.”

  “This will end badly,” Ungur warned.

  Chapter 25

  AMBUSH

  IT WAS JUST AFTER MIDNIGHT. Cyrus tried to sleep on the fur covered floor around the large smoldering fire. His ankle throbbed, and was swollen within his boot. Tier lay in a shaggy brown mound across from him, and Edward snored within his fur collar.

  Dr. Lege had ordered Ungur to hide the outsiders within her shelter until morning. Reluctantly, Ungur did what was requested. Then, she left the four without explanation. That had been hours ago. Cyrus was relieved to be rid of the bitter yeti’s presence, yet, where had she gone?

  The tent smelled sour and sweaty. Outside, in the distance, klops bickered and squabbled somewhere off in the mine. Cyrus knew he needed rest, but it was difficult to sleep surrounded by so much peril. He heard movement near the door.

  “Ungur?” he whispered.

  He rose and saw Fibian dressed in only his whale skin wetsuit, about to exit the shelter.

  “What are you doing?” Cyrus asked.

  “I want to survey the fortress, and scout out the cliff cannons,” Fibian said, “If we are to ask the yeti to revolt, we must have a plan.”

  The blue glow from his eyes glinted off his mechanical hand.

  “I’ll come with you,” Cyrus said, beginning to rise.

  “No, you need to rest your ankle,” Fibian said, “This is what I was made for. There is no point both of us risking capture.”

  Cyrus hesitated, then nodded. He understood. He would only slow Fibian down.

  “You’re going to freeze without your furs.”

  “I should be okay for a few hours,” Fibian said, smiling, “I am a froskman, remember.”

  “Be safe,” Cyrus said, “And don’t be too long.”

  Fibian bowed his head, then ducked out the flap.

  Cyrus lay back down on the furs. He closed his eyes and watched as his mind raced from one horrific possibility to another. How would they survive this place? What if they could not find Gammal? What if Gammal was dead? More sounds came from outside. Someone rustled into the tent.

  “Fibian?” Cyrus asked, looking up.

  Ungur stood within the doorway.

  “I may know a way to free Gammal,” she said.

  She had a panicky expression on her drawn face.

  “What’s going on?” Edward asked, rousing within Cyrus’ collar.

  The white spider rubbed his two large eyes.

  “Where have you been all night?” Tier asked.

  “The guards have grown reckless over the last few weeks,” Ungur whispered, “They’ve been abandoning their post near the gates to play dice and bone. The throne room will be empty this time of night, with the exception of a skeleton guard. There may be a way into the fortress’ dungeons, but we must leave now.”

  “Can it wait a few hours?” Cyrus asked, thinking of Fibian.

  “It’s now or never,” Ungur replied.

  “Your father’s okay with this?”

  “He does not know.”

  “Shouldn’t we wait until morning, when the elders meet?” Edward asked, “If the yeti agree to revolt, we can break down the gates in strength and free Gammal. Why take the risk?”

  “The queen will kill Gammal long before you invade her lair,” Ungur said, “If this boy truly is the savior prophesied, using stealth is the only way to ensure Gammal’s safety.”

  “You’re against us being here,” Tier said, mistrust in her tone, “Why are you now helping us?”

  “If you want to risk your lives to free Gammal, that is up to you,” Ungur said, “but I want you out of my home and away from my father. Giving you what you want seems the easiest way. But if you are caught, you will not mention that I helped. You have done enough harm already.”

  “I don’t like this,” Edward said, moving across Cyrus’ shoulder, “This sounds far too risky.”

  “What other choice do we have?” Cyrus asked, collecting his bow and klops guise, “This may be our only chance, and Ungur’s right. We can’t wait for the yeti to rebel and break down the gates. If we do, the queen will surely kill Gammal. This way, we find out where the hune is tonight. He’s the reason we’ve come so far. He’s the key to everything, defeating Rorroh, saving my people. We have to take the risk.”

  Did Cyrus sound confident, he wondered? Did he believe his own words? He felt his guts roil in terror.

  Tier stood up without saying a word.

  “You don’t have to come,” Cyrus said, staring up at the towering blonde yeti, “This isn’t your fight. You’re here to free your people.”

  “Gammal is my people,” Tier replied.

  Cyrus felt relief flush his system.

  “Where’s the blue-eyed one?” Ungur asked.

  “We have to go without him,” Cyrus said, limping towards the door, “He won’t be back for a while.”

  Ungur appeared troubled.

  “He can take care of himself,” Edward added.

  The spider’s assurances did not seem to relieve Ungur’s concerns.

  Cyrus and Tier stepped outside the tent. Ungur did not move.

  “Are we going?” Cyrus asked.

  “Yes, of course,” Ungur said, collecting herself, “Follow me.”

  Outside, a large piece of timber lay along the icy pathway.

  “Tier, you pick one end up,” Ungur whispered, “I’ll carry the other. The oddling will lead us. It will appear that we are an emergency repair crew. If anyone asks questions, tell them that a support beam collapsed in the northern mine.”

  Cyrus secured his foul-smelling klops helmet and took the lead. They marched through the yeti ghetto north towards the fortress. Ungur whispered directions to Cyrus as they navigated the broken trail.

  Along the way, yeti snored within leather-bound shelters. The night sky was overcast, with not a single star to light their way. The odd oil lamp burned here or there throughout the mine.

  They exited the ghetto and moved into the center of the pit. Icy craters pocked the mine, silent and empty. They passed by massive blackened forges that resembled large gravestones. Here and there, small klops stood guard, grasping crossbows and horns.

  “What’s your business?” a shrill voice asked.

  Cyrus broke into a sweat. He had not seen the two guards before them in the dark.

  “Pillar collapsed in the northern mine,” Cyrus said, twisting his voice, “Needs repairs.”

  The guards emerged out of the murk and inspected Tier and Ungur; then the log they carried.

  “Get on with it,” the second guard said, ignoring Cyrus.

  Cyrus released his breath.

  “Move,” he said, with all the nastiness he could muster.

  Ungur directed Cyrus to the eastern corner of the fortress’ massive steel doors. Oil lamps burned at the foot of the gates. Cyrus stared up at the hulking slabs of steel, their tops hardly visible in the darkness. The doors were taller than they were wide and formed an archway at their apex. Their exteriors were armored in steel bands, like a snake’s belly. Within the bands, intricate designs were etched and filled with veins of gold. Clearly, yeti made, Cyrus thought.

  They approached the fortress. To the right of the doors stood a small iron hatch, barely large enough for a yeti to squeeze through.

  “See, it is unguarded,” Ungur whispered, “You could walk right through.”

  “Once inside,” Cyrus said, “how do we find the dungeons?”

  “In the northeast corner of the hall, there is another iron door. The dungeons lie beyond.”

  Cyrus looked about. There was not a single water klops in site.

  “Something’s odd here,” Tier whispered.

  Cyrus could feel a great unease fill his bones. Edward stood on his should
er, his white fur bristling.

  “We can’t stay here,” Cyrus whispered, “Let’s get back to the tent.”

  He quickly turned to leave.

  “Cyrus!” Edward hissed.

  Ten brawny water klops emerged from the dark. All were over six feet tall. All carried large cleaver-like swords. Cyrus felt as if the very mine was crashing down around him.

  “Batalha…” Ungur gasped.

  Tier snapped into action, taking the log from Ungur and heaving it at the klops. She struck two in the chest, crushing their ribs and knocking them back over several stacks of lumber. Cyrus drew an arrow. He fired it at the closest klops. The poison-tipped missile found its target in the brute’s unarmored right leg. The creature howled and dropped, clutching his thigh.

  “The door!” Ungur shouted.

  “We must fight them,” Tier growled.

  “We have a single bow,” Ungur cried.

  The seven remaining batalha advanced.

  “They’re coming, go!” Edward shouted, racing across Cyrus’ back.

  Cyrus limped for the door. Tier and Ungur followed. Cyrus reached the door and forced the handle. All three stormed across the threshold. Wind and snow gusted in behind them. Cyrus slammed the door shut and barred it. The seven batalha crashed against its exterior.

  Within, the chamber was surprisingly warm. Cyrus took a deep breath and slumped against the iron hatch.

  “What do we do now?” he asked.

  “Ambush!”

  Chapter 26

  TWO FACED

  “MORE KLOPS,” Edward screamed.

  Cyrus sprang from the door and nocked an arrow to his bow. He aimed ahead, trying to find a target. Four batalha emerged from the shadowy stairway to their right. They pointed black rifles at the group.

  “Move an inch and I’ll blow your head from your shoulders,” one of the brutes ordered.

  “No,” Cyrus moaned, lowering his weapon.

  Their plan to rescue Gammal had failed before it had even started.

  “This way!” a heavy voice demanded.

  A fifth batalha stepped from behind a pillar, further within the room.