SWNOVELS Chapter 21
THE HIMMEL GARDE
DRAGONS WERE NOT REAL, Cyrus thought. They were monsters in children’s stories, made up to keep you from venturing over the Dead Fence. But what if the two-headed giant was real? Seeking him out would be suicide. They should take their chances and sail south, try to find a safe route through the perimeter islands.
Fibian argued it was suicide to attempt to escape past wretched water klops, giant wolves and grotesque mermaids loyal to Rorroh. They debated back and forth for hours. Finally, Cyrus had conceded, and five days later, on a frigid, northeasterly wind, the threesome reached the base of the Himmel Garde’s towering lair.
The slender tusk-like mountain punctured the sea and pierced the heavens. Once, it had been a vein of molten rock that coursed through the throat of a mighty volcano. The giant had long died out and crumbled into the ocean, leaving the tempered horn of magma as its heir.
Cyrus awoke as the glow beyond the horizon began to warm the morning sky. He ate tidal nuts and drank rainwater from the canteen. If it had not been for Fibian’s ability to breathe underwater and gather food, he and Edward would have died days ago.
“How are we going to get to the top of that thing?” Cyrus asked, searching for a path up the sheer, rock face.
Edward crept hesitantly from Cyrus’ jacket pocket. He had not been himself since learning of his familial past.
“We climb,” Fibian said, his eyes glowing a soft blue.
A brisk, salty wind swept the boat, raising goosebumps on Cyrus’ flesh.
“I can’t climb that,” he blurted.
“It is quite simple,” Fibian replied, “I will show you.”
“No. No way. That’s insane. It’s thousands of feet,” Cyrus argued.
“There is nowhere else to turn, young Master. We are surrounded by would-be killers and assassins. If you want to escape these islands, you must face the rock, or you must face sure death.”
* * *
AS CYRUS CLUNG TO THE ROCK FACE, his knees shook and his biceps burned.
“Keep your body close to the wall,” Fibian called down.
The froskman made the climb look effortless, even with the bow and arrows slung over his back.
“Don’t look down,” Edward said, from Cyrus’ shoulder.
Cyrus peered between his legs and saw their empty craft bobbing on the waves hundreds of feet below. How had he come this far? How could he go any further? He would surely fall at any moment. He had to get down from this place! He reminded himself that he was tied to Fibian’s waist. His eyes studied the rope secured around his own midsection, then followed the line up to the froskman above. What if Fibian fell? That seemed unlikely. The dark creature scaled the sheer, black mass as if weightless, his long limbs and delicate fingers navigating the surface with cat-like grace. Still, there was always a chance…
“Keep moving,” Fibian shouted, over the buffeting wind,” You are gripping too tight. Keep your arms straight and relaxed and carry your weight in your legs.”
Remembering what the froskman had told him, Cyrus kept three points of contact with the rock at all times. He placed his hands and feet where Fibian’s had been and moved one limb at a time. He stood on a three-inch ledge; his hands jammed into a salty, horizontal crack. Cyrus began to sweat beneath his fleece cap. What if the dragon realized Fibian was insane? What if he discovered Cyrus was not the person from the legend?
“One step at a time,” Edward said, trying to encourage him.
Was Edward really a poisonous monster, Cyrus thought? What if the blodbad turned on him? Cyrus was completely vulnerable dangling on the side of a mountain. For the hundredth time, he was regretting his decision.
“Just because this dragon hates his master, you really think he’ll help us?” he asked, “Maybe we should turn back.”
“He more than hates the Warrior Witch,” Fibian called down, “He wants revenge. Revenge that only you can achieve.”
“He’ll risk his life for us?” Edward asked, the wind blowing his fur tight to his round face.
“Long ago, the Warrior Witch ordered the two-headed beast to patrol the borders of the Northern Sea,” Fibian said,” To watch for anyone trying to escape your island. The dragon’s other half, Kravel, agreed to the charge, but Drache, feeling it beneath him, refused. He turned on both Kravel and the witch. He bit off his other head and swallowed the Warrior Witch whole. That is when he learned of the witch’s immortality,” the froskman’s voice grew bleak, “For his insubordination, she took what was dearest to him. She extinguished his belly’s hellfire for all eternity.”
“She told you this?” Edward asked.
“The witch made sure all in her armies knew of the dragon’s treachery and punishment.”
“He bit off his own head?” Cyrus said.
He began to feel weak. He had to get down, away from this place. This was madness!
“We have to turn back,” he said, reaching below with one foot.
“Cyrus, what are you doing?” Edward asked, “You’ve gone all white.”
“Do not move, young Master,” Fibian called down, “I will come to you.”
“We have to find another way,” Cyrus said, the welt on his side aching.
He looked down, trying to guide his foot to the next hold. He saw their boat far, far below. It looked like a toy bobbing on the sea. Butterflies swarmed his belly. He dared not look below again. He reached out with his right leg, probing the stone. He felt nothing. His arms were growing stiff. He had no choice. He ventured another peek. Several gulls circled the mountain beneath him, squawking and bickering. He lost all equilibrium. I can’t climb down, he thought, his cheek pressed against the cold stone. I can’t make it to the top either. His entire body was flexed, trying to adhere to the mountain.
“Cyrus, breathe,” Edward cried.
“I am coming, young Master,” Fibian shouted.
A fierce desperation grew in Cyrus’ belly. His vision began to close in from all directions.
“Breathe!” Edward screamed.
Cyrus was losing his hold on the rock. He tried with all his might to regain his grip. His arms and legs would not respond. He watched as his hands slipped and the damp stone fell away. He did not care. He was happy to relax finally. He felt his stomach shrink as he plummeted to the ocean. Then he was swallowed by a cozy, warm dream.