Cyrus LongBones Box Set
Cyrus LongBones and theCurse of the Sea Zombie
ByJeremy Mathiesen
Text copyright © 2017 Jeremy Mathiesen All Rights Reserved
Reproduction in whole or part of this publication withoutexpress written consent is strictly prohibited.
To Sally and Oscar Mathiesen
forwithout their brave journey, this adventure would never have been possible
TABLE OF CONTENT
BOOK 1
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
BOOK 2
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
BOOK 3
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 1
THE END
“RUN…”
Cyrus turned in the direction of the voice. The chamber was cold, dankand ill-lit by dying candles weeping overcraggy ledges. He smelled something sweet, yet foul in the air. Then it struck him.It was the reek of fear.
He searched the darkness. Several rusted manacles draped against thedamp walls, and the odd meat hook jangled overhead.
“Fibian,” Edward cried.
Cyrus looked to the small spider.Edward clung to Cyrus’ shoulder, pointing forward. Cyrus peered ahead.
At the room’s center, Fibian lay strapped to athick, wooden chair.
“Angels,” Cyrus gasped, “What happened?”
Candlelight illuminated Fibian’s sharpfeatures. He was haggard, a ghost of himself. His face was bloody and battered,his nose broken and his eyes swollen. Deep lacerations outlined his brow andcheekbones. The way he sat, Cyrus suspected his ribs were broken too.
“Run,” Fibian repeated, wheezing, “Before shereturns.”
He moved his head, gesturing to the rear of the room.
Cyrus rushed to Fibian’s side. He began tounbuckle the leather straps around his wrists. Long dried blood stained thechair’s deep grain.
“No, go - now,” Fibian coughed, bloodspattering his lips.
Cyrus unstrapped his friend’s ankles, contemplating their escape. Theonly way out was the stairway. But that was suicide. Yet if they stayed…
Cyrus hefted Fibian out of the chair and hauledhim to the double doors.
“Get ready to run,” Cyrus whispered.
“No,” Fibian begged.
“Cyrus,” Edward pleaded, digging his legs into Cyrus’ flesh.
Cyrus unbolted the steel lock. Something heavy clicked behind them. Heturned. Beyond the shadows, a hidden door in the back wall began to edge open.A long, spidery hand reached through the crack. Cyrus’ legs grew weak. A bald,crooked, old woman emerged through the passage.
“The Sea Zombie,” Edward gasped.
The creature’s white powdered face and wooden, costume nose were spattered with dried blood. She grinned like a snarling wolf. The rip in hermembrane-thin cheeks exposed dark, decaying gums.
She began to move forward with a cripple’s gait, but Cyrus was not fooled. He knew crushing strength hidbeneath the grey, tattered robes.
She looked at Cyrus through black, oily eyes, their deep sockets drilledinto jutting cheekbones.
“Murderer…” she said in a breathless whisper, “Thiefff!” she spat, as she raised herblackened, right arm.
The right arm that, because of Cyrus, was now handless…
Chapter 2
THE BEGINNING
TWO MONTHS EARLIER
SIXTEEN-YEAR-OLD CYRUS LONGBONESrushed along the sandy shore, mindful of the Dead Fence lurking in the nearbyforest. The sky was heavy and grey; the wind crisp and salty. Raindrops lashedthe beach.
“We need to finish the boat tonight,” Cyrus said, “If I’m not backbefore dinner…”
He did not need to say more. His blackened right eye told Edward enough.
“I’m afraid,” said Edward.
The velvety spider, crouched on Cyrus’ shoulder, “I’ve seen strangethings over there. Weird blue lights in the night.”
“It’s an island, like Virkelot,” Cyrus huffed,running with a sheet of silk in one hand and a steel pin in the other, “You’reletting those ghost stories get the better of you.”
But the truth was, Cyrus was afraid as well. It was just that hisstepmother terrified him more.
Edward was an odd little spider. He had a yellow mark on his back thatlooked similar to a skull-and-crossbones. Four years earlier, a twelve-year-oldCyrus had found the seven-legged orphan clinging to a web. The boy had saidhello to the creature, and the strangest thing had happened; the spider hadsaid hello back. As Cyrus spoke, Edward began to mimic everything he would say.Over the years, Cyrus taught him how to speak and shared with him all he knew. Cyrus had also asked about his missing eighth leg,but like most of his young childhood, Edward could not recall that memory.
Cyrus cut through a withered field of bluish-grey grass and tramped overseveral half-buried stone tiles. The ancient stones were weather-beaten, andeach looked as large as the town churchyard. He had always wished to asksomeone where they had come from, and why they ran along the entire coast, butknew he never could. He was not supposed to be on that side of the fence…
“Angels,” Cyrus cursed, as he slipped in the mud.
He fell to his bottom on a soggy patch of grass. He managed to keepEdward and the sheet out of the filth.
At the south end of the island flowed the island’s lone waterfall. Theexcess water from the village’s steam-powered contraptions drained into the man-made river; then into the sea. Over the years,the fall had carved its way through one of the stone tiles, clearing a lagoonwhere it met the ocean.
With time running out, Cyrus found his feet, waded through the pool andskirted in behind the sheet of water. There lay the entrance to a cavern.The result of an old cave-in, Cyrus reckoned. The hairs on his neck prickled.
He hurried through the darkened entrance. The air smelled moist, yetstale, the damp, sandy floor squishing through his toes. The small cave openinggave way to yawning darkness. Cyrus looked up. A massive ceiling rose dome-likeabove his head; then vanished into shadows.
Cyrus moved to a ledge, collected a box of matches from beside a squaretin and struck a match. The stick broke in his hand.
“Come on,” he said, trying to light a second.
The matchstick’s head sloughed off. The