Cyrus LongBones and the Curse of the Sea Zombie
Chapter 29

DEEP WATERS

“QUICK, UNTIE THE ROPE,” Fibian said, retrieving the arrows from the dead klappen.

The hunters closed in through the trees like a flock of savage birds. Cyrus ran back to the edge of the ravine.

“I can’t reach the knot.”

“Cut it loose,” Edward said, quivering on his shoulder.

There was a strange growl to the spider’s voice. Cyrus slashed the rope free.

“Move!” Fibian shouted, waving them ahead.

Cyrus began to run, winding the rope around his arm as he hopped over bodies and bushes. Out the corner of his eye, he saw Fibian draw an arrow. A klappen flew from the woods, shrieking like a banshee. Fibian struck it mid-flight, its cry cut short as it crashed to the earth. The froskman nodded to Cyrus and turned to follow.

The trees were thinning. The village was in sight. Cyrus ran as fast as he could, stumbling across the uneven earth, avoiding deep puddles and ankle-breaking pits.

As he made his way out of the forest, he paused at the top of the grassy hill and looked back. Fibian was dashing through the forest, every few seconds turning to loose another projectile into the darkness. A shrill scream followed each shot.

“Keep moving!” Edward said.

Cyrus half ran, half rolled down the prickly hillside, towards the village. The klappen’s cries were close. They would be at their necks at any moment. Cyrus tripped and hit the sand, sprawling like a starfish. Edward flew from his collar and bounced along the beach.

“Get up,” the tiny spider cried, spitting and shaking sand from his fur.

Fibian rushed to Cyrus’ side and pulled him to his feet.

“We must replace a boat,” he said, handing Edward to Cyrus.

They began to run through the dilapidated village, searching the salty huts. Cyrus spied the odd cracked or punctured craft abandoned alongside several log structures. What had happened here, he wondered? He sped towards a boat resting at the water’s edge. He stopped short. The craft was barnacle covered and half buried in sand.

“Over there,” Edward said.

Cyrus spotted a long, narrow craft propped up on a pair of makeshift workhorses. It was just beyond the threshold of a sagging shed. It seemed someone had been repairing its hull before abruptly abandoning it.

“Let’s go,” Cyrus said to Fibian.

Together they ran to the door, grabbed the front of the boat and jerked it off its stand. It struck the sand with a hollow thud.

“This will have to do,” Fibian said, throwing a weather-bleached paddle into the craft.

Cyrus’ pointed ears perked. He heard the sound of running feet.

“They’re coming!” he said, dragging the boat towards the surf.

Fibian unshouldered his bow. A klappen sprang from behind a hut. The froskman dropped it in its tracks. More came rushing down the beach.

“Quick, Master Cyrus, into the boat.”

Fibian shot another scrambling across a rooftop. Cyrus drove the craft into the lapping waves. The sea numbed his bones, but his terror masked the chill.

“Behind us,” Edward shouted.

Three klappen tried to rush by Fibian, towards Cyrus. One fell to an arrow; the other two sped past. They hit the water like rabid dogs, kicking and clawing at the sea. With Edward on his shoulder, Cyrus leaped into the boat and began to paddle. An arrow punctured the second klappen’s throat. Cyrus waited for the third to fall. Then he saw Fibian discard his bow and quiver. No more arrows…

The fiend lunged for the boat’s aft and began to pull itself aboard.

“Kill it,” Edward screamed, digging his legs into Cyrus’ shoulder.

Cyrus scooped up the oar and chopped at the creature’s skull. It fell back, bloodied, but gripped the edge of the boat. Cyrus jammed the paddle into the villain’s snapping jaw and shoved it below the waves.

“Fibian,” Edward shouted.

As Cyrus struggled to drown the wretch, he quickly glanced to shore. The froskman was holding the enemy off with his bare hands, striking them to the ground, two and three at a time.

“Fibian, we have to go!” Cyrus cried.

The klappen pulled the oar from its throat and clawed at the boat. It snatched Cyrus’ wrist.

“No!”

Cyrus tried to pull free. The creature started to drag him overboard. Edward came springing down Cyrus’ arm and bit into the klappen’s knuckle. The creature shrieked as if on fire and fell backward into the sea. Cyrus crashed to the floor of the boat.

“Th- thanks,” he stammered.

Edward pursed his mouth shut and nodded back. There was something strange about the spider’s face.

More and more klappen began pouring down the beach. Cyrus snapped back to the situation at hand.

“Fibian, hurry, you’ll be overrun,” he shouted.

The froskman’s eyes flashed about violently in the dark.

“There is no time. Keep him safe, Master Edward. If Master Cyrus dies, we are all doomed.”

“Fibian!” Edward screamed.

The froskman became engulfed. He twisted and thrashed, tossing his attackers aside like children. More piled on. Fibian began to move as if in tar. Several klappen sprang past and started to rush towards Cyrus and Edward.

“They’re coming!” Edward said, hurrying up Cyrus’ arm, “We have to paddle out.”

Abandon Fibian? Cyrus’ stomach began to turn.

The klappen crashed into the surf and started to push towards the craft, their faces filled with a feral yearning.

“Fibian, please,” Cyrus cried, retreating into deeper waters.

The monsters waded into the sea up to their chins. They shrieked in rage and frustration, apparently unable to swim.

“Fibian!”

Cyrus watched as Fibian wrestled with the mob, struggling to stay upright. A klappen sprang onto the froskman’s back. Fibian grabbed its arm and threw it into several others. Another leaped on. Fibian sent it hurling too, but his strength was visibly waning. A klappen picked up an oar off the ground.

“Behind you,” Cyrus shouted.

It struck Fibian in the head. The froskman turned and snapped the creature’s neck. Another klappen tore a timber from a hut and broke it over Fibian’s back. Fibian dropped to one knee; then rose back up and hit the fiend with a clubbing blow that sent it twisting to the ground. Several others began to tear apart the nearby huts, creating clubs of their own. They came at Fibian in an undisciplined frenzy. The froskman caught the first strike, twisting and breaking the klappen’s wrist. He dodged the second blow, blocked the third, parried the fourth, but the fifth, sixth, seventh and eighth struck him from every angle. He stumbled and again fell to one knee. With clubs held high, the klappen closed in, beating Fibian into the ground like a steel spike.

“Fibian,” Cyrus shrieked, his eyes and nose running, “NO!”

He was losing Niels all over again.