Cyrus LongBones Box Set Page 5

  “What do you think we’re doing here?” Cyrus heard another person say.

  “I reckon the old coot’s ready to admit he’s too old to be mayor,” answered another, “I bet his son Lars is finally taking over.”

  “That senile bag of skin hasn’t done anything for us since that Hoblkalf Waterworks Project some forty years ago.”

  As the town folk prattled on, Cyrus could hear coughing and yelling from inside the mayor’s office. His secretary burst through the front doors, crying and leaving a trail of papers in her wake, as she ran off down the main street. This caused further buzz among the suspense-filled mob.

  With a great cloud of cigar smoke, the mayor emerged from his balcony door. The villagers grew silent. Hoblkalf leaned on his cane and hobbled across the banner-draped terrace, towards a large platform. The sun glinted off his head as if it was silverware. He limped up the steps, took a giant puff from his grumpweed cigar and shuffled some papers around on the stand in front of him. Then he adjusted his monocle and scrunched his beady eyes, inspecting the speech before him. Hoblkalf opened his codfish-like mouth and broke into a fit of coughing and hacking. When the attack subsided, he cleared his throat and began again.

  “My fellow citizens, I am sorry to interrupt your busy day, but I bring urgent and distressing news. We the hard-working people of Virkelot Island are under ATTACK!”

  Hoblkalf smashed his fist down on the podium. The crowd jumped and began to chatter like chickens.

  “Eh-hem, it seems the Sea Zombie has executed a surprise attack, spearheaded at the LongBones farm. We are not sure the extent of her plans at present, but we do know her first goal was to capture one of our own and hold her ransom,” Hoblkalf paused, staring soberly into the audience, “No word of her demands as yet, but we predict a request to tear down the Dead Fence and the surrender of our everlasting souls. Never, I say, NEVER! We do not make deals with demons or assassins.”

  “Hear, hear,” shouted a toothless, old man in the crowd.

  What is the Mayor talking about? Cyrus thought. He turned to his brother. Niels looked bewildered.

  “It is not clear at this time why the LongBones farm was targeted, but what we do know is this. We must fight them hard, and we must fight them fast. They may come from land, sea or sky. We must join forces and battle the Sea Zombie’s army tooth and nail, down to every last man, woman, and child. Any questions?”

  “Mr. Mayor -” Niels shouted.

  “Good, let’s get to work,” interrupted Hoblkalf.

  The crowd hollered a war-like cheer of support and praise.

  “It’s been forty years since I’ve seen Hoblkalf so spry,” said the preacher.

  “What’s going on?” Cyrus asked Niels, “Who said anything about the Sea Zombie?”

  He had never seen his brother look so worried and confused.

  “I don’t know, Cyrus, but we’d better find out.”

  Chapter 9

  THE COUNTER ATTACK

  FORTY-FIVE MINUTES LATER, on the LongBones farm, Hoblkalf was giving orders and receiving intelligence from within a large, grey tent with the letters, ‘HQ,’ stamped over the doorway. Several yards away, Cyrus peered in and saw the mayor poring over a map of Virkelot Village with buttons and thimbles representing various fronts and positions on the island. A runner poked his head in through the door flap.

  “Sir, Niels LongBones is requesting your counsel.”

  The mayor looked up from his map, “One moment, Mr. Fod.”

  Outside, Cyrus watched as Niels paced the ground; raking his fingers through his thick, grey hair. A large number of villagers had gathered on the farm, eager to find out their roles in what Hoblkalf was calling, the Hoblkalf War.

  The mayor emerged from the tent in a plume of cigar smoke.

  “Mr. Mayor,” Niels said, anger and frustration tainting his words.

  He marched towards Hoblkalf. Two guards intercepted him and pushed him back. The mayor coughed and hacked as he hobbled over to a stack of wooden crates. The masses murmured while two more guards helped him up onto the makeshift podium. He raised his cane into the air to signal silence. Then the old man took a long, slow pull from his cigar.

  Cough, hack, eh-hem!

  “My fellow citizens, thank you for being so patient in this our gravest hour. As most of you now know, Llysa LongBones is being held captive at the bottom of a pit. It seems the enemy has found a way around our blessed fence. I have consulted my staff and have come up with a rescue plan to save the widow LongBones.”

  The mayor wiped beads of sweat from his liver-spotted forehead.

  “It is my intention to build a wooden crane over top of the pit and pull the captured woman out of enemy hands. The steam-powered ‘Hoblkalf Crane,’ as it will be named, will stand over seventy feet high and use over two hundred feet of cable. We will need every woman to collect rope and materials and take part in the cable’s fabrication, and we will need every man, not given a task, to support the crane’s design and construction. It is an ambitious endeavor, but one the Sea Zombie will not be expecting, and I am counting on all of you to make it a success. Does anyone have any questions?”

  “Mr. Mayor,” again Niels shouted.

  “Good,” the mayor said, ignoring him, “There’s no time to lose, everyone report to your staging areas. We have work to do.”

  Hoblkalf received another volley of praise and applause.

  “We don’t have time for this,” Niels cried, “The Mayor’s going to get Mom killed.”

  It was worse than that. Cyrus thought of the journal. The mayor’s plan would cause an even larger cave-in. Could Cyrus trust his brother? If the mayor got his way, would it matter? He made up his mind and crossed his fingers.

  “Niels, there’s something I have to show you, but you have to keep it a secret.”

  “What?” Niels replied.

  “You can’t tell anyone. You promise?”

  “Sure, I promise.”

  Several minutes later in Cyrus’ bedroom, Cyrus pulled the turtle skeleton from under his bed, and the OddFoot journal from beneath his mattress. He handed both to his brother. If the entire island collapsed because he had kept the truth a secret, he would not be able to live with himself.

  “What in Angels is this?” Niels asked, looking at the strange village modeled on the turtle’s shell.

  He placed the skeleton on the bed and studied the journal for several moments. His expression turned from curious, to confused, to finally terrified.

  “Is this real?” Niels asked, his eyes wide.

  “I don’t know,” Cyrus said, “but it makes a lot of sense with the drilling, the underground water, the earthquakes and now this cave-in.”

  “Where did you find all this?” Niels asked, picking up the skeleton and inspecting its eye sockets.

  “The OddFoot home,” Cyrus lied, “It’s been abandoned for years.”

  “The book says that the crazy old fool crossed over the Dead Fence,” Niels said, “cursed his whole family.”

  “He didn’t have any family left to curse,” Cyrus said.

  “We have to show the Mayor.”

  “No, wait,” Cyrus exclaimed, “You promised.”

  He chased his brother out of the back door.

  “Please,” Cyrus continued, “The Mayor will kill me if he finds out.”

  “Don’t worry; I’ll tell him I’m the one that found them.”

  “Niels, no!”

  Cyrus followed Niels down to the mayor’s tent pleading the entire way.

  “I must speak with the Mayor immediately,” Niels demanded, running up to the guard standing at the door.

  “You can’t. You promised,” Cyrus begged.

  “You will just have to be patient,” the guard said, “the Mayor is indisposed.”

  “Send Mr. LongBones in,” the mayor’s voice ordered from inside the tent.

  Niels shouldered past the guard and ducked into the tent with Cyrus close on his heels.

&nb
sp; “Cyrus StrangeBones,” the guard muttered as Cyrus entered the HQ.

  The tent’s canvas walls smelled sour, like damp clothes left in a pile. Hoblkalf was sitting at his desk, talking to a member of his staff.

  “And what can I do for you, Mr. LongBones?” the mayor asked, exhaling a nose-full of smoke.

  Niels moved to the front of the desk, holding the book and turtle behind his back.

  “Mayor Hoblkalf, first off, we’re grateful for all the work you are doing to save our Mother.”

  The mayor nodded smugly, patting his plump belly as he leaned back in his chair.

  “But is all this really necessary? We said nothing about the Sea Zombie being involved. The ground simply isn’t stable. I think the drill weakened the earth and it gave way. We don’t have time to build a giant crane, but even if we did, the land around that hole won’t support that kind of weight. It’s suicide.”

  The mayor frowned.

  “May we have some privacy, Mr. BackWood?” he asked his aide.

  The man nodded and exited the tent, leaving Hoblkalf, Niels, and Cyrus alone.

  “What in Kingdom are you talking about, boy?” the mayor barked.

  “I think this whole village sits on top of a giant, underground lake,” Cyrus said, “I mean, where does all the water come from? I think the earth’s extremely unstable.”

  “Don’t be stupid, boy,” growled the mayor, “Underground lake? This was obviously the work of the Sea Zombie.”

  “This wasn’t the work of the Sea Zombie,” Niels said, almost pleading, “but even if it was, and even if the ground could support your Hoblkalf Crane, there’s no time. It’s been three hours. My Mom’s going to drown down there unless we do something now.”

  The mayor paused for several moments, seeming to weigh Niels’ words. Then slowly he began to shake his head.

  “Oh no, if a job’s worth doing, it’s worth doing right. I won’t go letting the hastiness of youth weaken the integrity of this operation.”

  “Your crane is what’s going to weaken the integrity of this operation,” Niels said, taking the OddFoot journal from behind his back and slamming it down on the mayor’s desk.

  The journal splashed open to the map page. Cyrus’ heart stopped in his chest.

  “What is this?” Hoblkalf asked, pulling the book closer and adjusting his monocle.

  The map was brittle and water stained, yet the sketch of the two islands looked almost real.

  “I’ve never seen a drawing like this before,” the mayor said, “Jim OddFoot? He vanished years ago. Where did you two find this?”

  “I found it,” Niels said, “Along with this, in the old OddFoot house.”

  He handed the mayor the small turtle skeleton, then gave Cyrus a knowing nod. Confused, the mayor inspected the small forest and village constructed on the turtle’s shell. Then he placed the skeleton on his desk and buried his nose in the book. The old man read Jim’s notes and studied the map in detail.

  “He crossed the Fence and survived? It must be a trick,” he said, under his breath.

  “It explains all the water wells, earthquakes and the cave in,” Cyrus said.

  “Who else could have done this?” Niels asked, “Cyrus and I have terrible handwriting, and we’re no artists. There’s only one thing to do. You must cancel your Hoblkalf War and pull our Mother out of that pit immediately. Just use the cable, it’ll take a day at the most with everyone’s help.”

  “This is impossible.” Hoblkalf whispered, “I was going to lead us to victory…”

  The old man fell back in his chair and seemed to shrivel.

  “Come on, Cyrus,” Niels said, “We need to tell the others.”

  Cyrus was still reeling, but he turned to follow his brother out to leave. From behind them came what sounded like a fist pounding against the desk. Cyrus looked back. The mayor’s eyes were ablaze, his monocle falling from his face. Hoblkalf started to rise as if some unseen flame heated the gas within his belly.

  “Never. Don’t you see what has happened here? Doesn’t it seem a little too convenient that you two find this book in the home of the damned and then your mother becomes lost in the depth of a dark and evil pit? It’s a trick! The Sea Zombie took this Jim OddFoot over forty years ago, and she created this, this misinformation to cause confusion and panic amongst our troops. This false intelligence stops here, and that’s an order.”

  The mayor glared at the two brothers.

  “If the two of you disobey me, the manner in which you found these two items of evil, and the connection they have to your mother’s predicament will be enough to have you locked up for life. It is only out of sympathy for your dead Father that I do not charge you both with treason this instant.”

  Cyrus looked to his brother, fighting back tears.

  “Come on,” Niels said, “The Mayor can’t help us.”

  “Yes, you will leave,” the mayor continued, his face turning purple,” You will leave these items of wickedness with me and speak of this treachery no further, or you will be charged as traitors and hanged by the neck until dead, do you understand?”

  Niels took Cyrus by the arm and led him out of the tent. Cyrus looked back over his shoulder. The mayor glared after them like a red-hot coal.

  Outside, construction of the Hoblkalf Crane was already underway. Villagers trampled this way and that, carrying tools and supplies, and great trees were being felled and dragged towards the perimeter of the chasm.

  “We have to stop them,” Niels said, peering around at the frantic workers.

  Cyrus could feel the earth begin to tremble and quake.

  “Oh, Angels,” he said, “I think it’s too late…”

  Chapter 10

  A VERY BAD DAY

  CYRUS AND NIELS HURRIED from the mayor’s tent. The rumble and quake of the Hoblkalf War effort droned across the farm.

  “What are we going to do?” Cyrus asked.

  “We have to stop the construction and save Mom,” Niels replied.

  Cyrus could hear the roof goat bleat in the distance as the rhythmic beating of a pile driver clanged through the trees.

  “What about the Mayor? He said he’d hang us,” Cyrus said.

  “If we listen to Hoblkalf, Mom’s going to drown. Come on.”

  Cyrus did not like the idea of risking his life for his abusive stepmother, but he knew his half-brother would not understand, so reluctantly he followed.

  Amongst the grass and sparse trees, the recent traffic had etched a dirt path through the LongBones’ field. The roar of a drill filled the air.

  “We have to hurry,” Niels said.

  As they jogged past the worksite, Cyrus could smell the scent of tree sap and sawdust. He could also sense an excitement amongst the workers. If he had not known better, he would have thought that the newly erected beams and scaffolding were part of a town fair. There were villagers hauling freshly cut trees, sawing and sanding wooden beams, and digging and drilling large holes. Several hefty men used a large rope-and-pulley operated piledriver to pound foundation beams into the earth. Cyrus thought the whole structure looked more like the framework for some sort of circular arena, rather than a crane.

  The two workers operating the drill became startled as its rotor jammed and the machine blew a gasket.

  “I told you not to force it,” one of the operators shouted.

  “What do you know about drilling?” the other barked.

  CRACK!

  The ground quivered, and dust sprang up from the soil like mushrooms. The workers stood crouched, as if on broken glass. Lightning-like fractures ripped outwards from the center of the site, creating a lacework of dust and rubble.

  One of the men screamed, “Run for your lives!” and both leaped from the contraption.

  The workers reinforcing the foundation beams scrambled from their posts like fleas from a drowning mutt. Some jumped two stories from their wooden platforms.

  “It’s happening again,” Cyrus shouted, “We
have to go back.”

  “We have to help Mom,” Niels said, pressing forward.

  The noise of the island’s crust splintering sounded like a thunderstorm. Cyrus pulled on his brother’s arm.

  “You don’t understand. It’s going to cave in,” he said, digging his heels into the earth.

  “What in Kingdom…” Niels gasped.

  Cyrus looked back. A large plume of dust filled the air as the crane’s foundation began to twist and sink. Again, he tugged at his brother’s arm. This time Niels followed.

  From behind, frantic and condemned voices screamed as the two brothers ran towards the village square.

  The cave-in spread rapidly as a faster boy sped passed them, crying, “Run, it’s the Sea Zombie.”

  Cyrus and his brother dashed up ChickenLop Lane, through the village main street and towards the Virkelot Ring Road. Cyrus turned back and saw a wave of trees and houses tilt and slide off the edge of the earth, vanishing into a large cloud of dust. The wave stretched across the entire island, and it was growing near.

  “This way,” Niels said.

  The two brothers hopped a fence and began to make their way across several farms and groves.

  It must have seemed that they knew what they were doing, for other people decided to follow their footsteps.

  Cyrus saw a mailbox ahead that read, ‘CobblePop Corn Farm.’ The cornstalks barely came up to his shoulders, and their ears looked like bunches of white raisins emerging from cigar paper.

  The ground shuddered. A small hole in the earth opened before them. Niels tripped. His right foot fell into the hole. He crashed hard to the ground, knocking his head against the mailbox’s thick post. The earth shunted. The pit grew larger, swallowing Niels whole.

  “Niels!” Cyrus shouted, diving to grasp his brother’s hand.

  Niels clung feebly to the edge by one hand, blood oozing from a gash on his forehead.

  “Climb,” Cyrus shrieked, pulling at his brother’s wrist.

  Niels struggled and gripped the ledge with both hands. His skin was pale and his expression confused and pained.