Cyrus LongBones and the Curse of the Sea Zombie
Chapter 15

SUPPLIES

CYRUS CRASHED THROUGH THE WOODS as if on fire, leaping over poisonous creepers and dashing through puddles of mud. He cleared the forest and rushed down the seaside path, heading for Edward’s tree.

“Over here,” a familiar voice shouted.

The fuzzy spider was dangling from a grey leafed bush. Cyrus made his way over.

“The Mayor’s ordered my death,” he said, his breath labored, “They’re trying to kill me. I have to escape.”

“What do you mean?” Edward asked.

Cyrus’ senses were electric.

“He says I’m a traitor and wants me executed. My only chance is to take the boat and run.”

Edward seemed anxious.

“Well, I’m coming with you.”

“You don’t understand,” Cyrus said, “I can’t stay here, and with the cave-ins and that creature, Myrkur’s not safe either. I have to sail away, replace somewhere else to live; a new island, a new home. I have to leave this place and never come back.”

“But you can’t do it yourself,” Edward said, “You don’t know north from your nose. You’ll get lost the minute you lose sight of land.”

Edward was right. The little spider did seem to have an uncanny sixth sense when it came to direction.

“There’s no guarantee we’ll even make it through the night,” Cyrus replied.

“But if I stay, I’m guaranteed to drown with this place. With the two of us together, at least we stand a chance.”

Cyrus felt tears well up in his eyes and the weight on his shoulders grew lighter.

“We’d better hurry,” he said, picking Edward up and putting him in his shirt pocket.

Twenty minutes later the two runaways were adrift. Cyrus paddled through the shore break and searched the tree line for danger. It seemed that no one had dared cross the Dead Fence in pursuit. Were the old legends true? Was there truly some ancient evil beyond the wall? His stomach twisted. He did not share his apprehension with Edward.

The grey sky grew dim with the coming evening, and the sea foamed and chopped amidst the rising tide.

“We’re going to need food and water,” Cyrus said, shivering in his wet denim.

“And some warm clothes,” Edward added, “You’re going to freeze.”

The small spider began to crawl out of Cyrus’ pocket and up his shirt.

“What should we do?” Cyrus asked, picking Edward off his shoulder and placing him on the mast.

“Myrkur Island,” Edward said, skittering up the crow’s nest, “Old Jim has lots of stuff in that place.”

“I was afraid you’d say that.”

Cyrus’ heart sank further.

They arrived at the southern tip of the island and moored the boat at the edge of the seaside cave. The land seemed to have withered since their last visit, for the trees appeared bone-like and bare.

They climbed up into the eye socket of the massive skull. Cyrus felt as if he was seeing the caverns for the first time. He studied the arching and somber forms. The twin pools in the fossilized rock reminded him of the blue-eyed phantom. There was no time to waste.

“Ready?” he asked Edward, who was crouched on his shoulder.

The frightened spider nodded, his two eyes wide. Cyrus lit the lantern with a shaky hand, then crept into old Jim OddFoot’s dwelling. He peered about the room for danger. Nothing had been shifted since their first visit. He made his way towards the skeleton on the bed.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” he whispered.

“You have no choice,” Edward replied, “Be quick.”

Steadying his nerves, Cyrus pulled the sealskin boots off the skeleton’s feet. He knocked the dust out. The air became musty and stale. Coughing, he kicked off his wet, tattered shoes, held his breath, and pulled on the black boots. To his surprise, they were fleecy, warm and felt tailor fit. Finally, some luck, he thought. Next, he pulled a leather belt and sheathed knife from the dead man’s waist. The dagger was a little longer than Cyrus’ hand and its fang-shaped blade sharp as broken glass. He buckled the belt low around his hips. The weight of the knife made him feel larger somehow.

On a coat rack, near the entrance, he found a fleece-lined leather jacket and cap, and a wool scarf. The clothing was a few sizes too big but warmed him to the core.

“Cyrus, over there,” Edward said, pointing two legs towards the bookshelf.

“Holy Sea Zombie.”

Cyrus moved towards the shelf and gathered up a bow and quiver of arrows. The belly and back of the weapon were crafted from dunkel wood, and the grip was bound with leather. Cyrus pulled the string. It was coarse and felt of tough hemp.

“No, Cyrus. The water skin and blanket.”

Cyrus swung the quiver and bow over his shoulder and collected a wool blanket and empty water skin from the bookshelf. But where would they replace fresh water?

“Do you feel that?” Edward gasped.

The little spider curled into a ball and rolled into Cyrus’ shirt pocket. Cyrus paused. What was it he was supposed to feel? Then it happened. A strange vibration moved up from his feet into his teeth. The hum grew into a grumbling roar.

“A cave-in!” Edward shouted.

Cyrus clutched his gear and sped towards the door. Dust and stone rained down from spreading cracks in the ceiling. The oil paintings started to fall from the walls. Books and other objects crashed to the ground around Cyrus’ feet. From behind him came what sounded like giant rock biting through massive stone.

“Jump!” Edward screamed.

Cyrus leaped through the door and crashed to the earth. A splintering boom echoed throughout the caves. Dust and stone fragments enveloped the would-be victims. Cyrus coughed and wheezed and peered into his pocket to make sure Edward was safe.

“I’m okay?” the small spider said, “You?”

“I think so,” Cyrus answered, looking back through the haze of bone dust.

A large portion of Jim’s roof had collapsed, blocking the entrance to his lair.

“Let’s get out of here before the rest of it caves in,” Cyrus whispered.

With his hand on the sheath of the knife, he slipped from the cave, tossed their gear into the boat and pushed off from the eroding fossil.

“Cyrus,” Edward said, his voice shaky.

Cyrus looked into his pocket. His best friend peeked out, quivering with fear. Cyrus scanned the area. Then he saw the cause of Edward’s concern. There were wet, webbed handprints on the boat’s mast and hull. The blue-eyed phantom.