The War of the Masters

“We’re here,” Keira said, pausing to let the rest of the group catch up. Cyrus was amazed at how well she’d navigated the immense forest.

They had arrived at a tiny clearing guarded by two terrifying warriors. They were gigantic in stature, at least eight feet tall, wearing native garb and wielding massive spears. Cyrus squinted, searching for the tunnel that should be there. At first he didn’t see anything, but then he noticed an unusual darkness obscured behind a loose tangle of vines. Seeing Keira’s approach, the two guards stood up straight and pulled their spears in tight to their bodies.

“Well, they look friendly,” Cyrus said wryly.

“Be careful,” Terra warned.

Keira leaned in beside him. “The Avenoxi hold Wolfbane in high regard. That may give you a little bargaining leverage.” Cyrus nodded and pressed on until he stood, dwarfed, in front of the two warriors.

He took a deep breath, glad that he was backed by T’Saunté and the others. “Hello. My name is Cyrus, and these are my friends. We’ve brought a gift for the Avenoxi Tribe.”

The two warriors looked at each other, then back at Cyrus, waiting for him to continue.

Lively bunch, aren’t they?

“I would like to deliver it to your leader, if at all possible.”

“No,” one of the warriors said with a thick accent. “The Sheckem meet with other group of outsiders. He gave order not to be interrupted.”

Other outsiders? Maybe Dameon is here, Cyrus thought.

“Oh, that’s too bad.” Cyrus pulled Wolfbane from his belt. The warriors instinctively crouched into a fighting position, their spears pointed at his throat. Cyrus smiled, holding the blade up in a non-threatening manner. “Now that I’ve got your full attention, take a look at this inscription.” He held out the sword by its blade, offering it to the younger of the two warriors. Reluctantly the man took the handle.

The warriors cautiously lowered their spears and the older of the two warriors stepped forward, squinting as he looked the sword over.

“That . . . look like Wolfbane! Haven’t seen since I was a boy. We thought it lost forever.”

“It is Wolfbane,” Cyrus assured him, “and I would like to personally return it to your, um, Sheckem. It belongs with your people.”

The two warriors looked at each other, then at the group before them.

Hesitantly the older warrior said, “Okay, I let you in.” The younger man began to protest, but the elder raised a hand, silencing him instantly. “But only two go with you. Village already tense enough with Fire General.”

So Dameon is here!

“I take it not everyone is happy with Dameon?” Cyrus asked curiously.

The warrior paused, perhaps surprised at the mention of the general’s name. Slowly, he handed the sword back to Cyrus. “No. There great divide with Sheckem and daughter, Ra’Nu. But Sheckem go ahead with meet outsiders.”

Cyrus made a mental note of the name. If Dameon’s appearance had already stirred up political tension, he could expand on that. The Avenoxi had no idea who Dameon was, or what he would do to their village.

“Where can I find Ra’Nu?”

The older warrior opened his mouth, paused, then ignored Cyrus’s question altogether. “Go to village, wait there until Sheckem return. Then you give him sword.”

Cyrus gave a respectful nod. “Thank you. Just give me a moment.” He walked back and joined the rest of the group in a huddle. Terra, Raiden, Keira, T’Saunté, Lucky, his mother, and his father all looked at him.

“I take it you guys heard everything?” Cyrus asked.

“Yeah, he said only two of us could go with you,” Raiden replied.

“Ooh, ooh, pick me!” Lucky the Leprechaun said exuberantly, his arm raised into the air. “I’m ready to fell another giant!”

Cyrus smiled. “Not this time, Lucky. I need you here to protect the others while we’re gone.”

Lucky puffed out his chest. “Well, that makes sense. I’d like to see someone try to go through me!”

“T’Saunté, same for you. You’re still recovering and I want you to get back to full strength. You’re our last resort, but be ready if anything goes wrong.”

The dragon nodded reluctantly.

“Terra,” Cyrus said, “we’ve been in this together since the beginning. I’d like you to come with me.”

Terra nodded. “Absolutely.”

“As for the second,” Cyrus paused and considered his options. “Keira, you’ve been our guide thus far, and thanks to your ability you know more about the Avenoxi than anyone else. Would—”

“Cyrus,” Keira interrupted, “I still owe Dameon for putting me in that dungeon.” She grinned and said, “I’m in.”

Cyrus smiled as well. “Do you have a weapon?”

“Just this shield I took from the castle.”

Cyrus reached to his belt and unhooked the whip the blacksmith had given him. He handed it to her. When she raised an eyebrow he added, “Just in case.”

There was only one thing he hadn’t figured out yet: a contingency plan in case something went wrong.

“Terra, if we run into trouble would you be able to call T’Saunté with your telepathy?”

Terra considered. “I’m not sure. I can only project my thoughts a half mile or so. If we’re any farther, it might not reach him.”

Cyrus frowned. “Well, there goes that plan.”

“I have an idea,” Raiden chimed in. Working his hands together, he focused his power to form a deep violet arrow of solid energy. “I put a little extra sizzle into this so it would hold together longer. If you get into trouble, use your power to hurl it into the sky. I’ll be watching; that will be our signal to join the party if things go sour.”

Cyrus reached out and took the arrow. To his surprise, it didn’t hurt to touch it. “Thanks, Raiden. That’s two I owe you.”

Raiden shrugged. “Who’s counting?”

Cyrus gave him a high five and looked up at the giant warrior. “We’re ready.”

The secret path to the village wound through a network of inky caves. A cloying fungal stench assailed Keira’s nostrils, causing her to shudder. The damp, slimy walls oozed enough moisture into the air that she felt like she was walking through a wet rag. Like most elves, Keira hated confined spaces, but it was something her people never spoke of—especially with other races.

“How are you girls doing?” Cyrus asked over his shoulder.

“Okay,” Terra said reluctantly.

Keira paused. “Good enough.”

Pushing the unsettling surroundings from her mind, she concentrated on what lay before her. The path was narrow, forcing them to walk in a single file line. Torches had been placed on the walls to light the way, but most burned so low they barely helped at all. Shadows crept along their path like specters of the night, reminding her of her time in the dungeon.

The dungeon . . .

A chill ran up Keira’s spine and she drove the thought from her mind. Those were memories she wished she could erase permanently.

Cyrus suddenly stopped, almost causing a three person pile-up. “I see a chamber up ahead. It’s well lit, so be ready.”

Keira instinctively pulled the shield off her back and strapped it onto her right arm. In her left she held the whip Cyrus had just given her.

Inching their way into the spacious chamber, Keira noticed a small chandelier hanging from a vaulted ceiling. In one corner of the room was a well-made bed, with a thick stack of books nearby. A man sat at a wooden table in the center of the room wearing a white, button-up shirt and gray pants. He wasn’t a giant like the warriors outside. His hair was a long, shiny silver, and his ears came to a sharp point.

“Welcome, travelers!” the man’s voice boomed.

Keira blinked a couple times to make sure she wasn’t seeing things.

Another elf?

Something was wrong. What would one of her people be doing here?

Then again, maybe he’s thinking the same thing . . .

Just in case he hadn’t noticed her, Keira pulled her auburn hair over her ears, hiding the only visual difference between her people and the humans.

“I said welcome, travelers!” the man repeated just as cheerful as before. “Please, come and have a seat. I have much to tell you.”

Cyrus hesitated. He looked at Keira and Terra, then back to the silver-haired elf. “I’m sorry,” Cyrus said. “But we can’t stay.” Keira could see the tension knotted on his brow; most likely he had the same eerie feeling she did.

“Oh, it will only take a couple minutes,” the elf said jovially. “Please, sit down, I’ll get you some drinks.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” Cyrus tried again, “but we’re in a hurry. Maybe later we can talk.”

Cyrus certainly is polite, Keira thought. But we really need to go.

A hurt look came over the man’s face. “Now that’s a shame.” The elf took out his pocket watch and checked the time. Holding on to the chain, he let the clock face dangle. Slowly it began to sway, picking up momentum until it swung at a hypnotic pace. Keira was about to tell him more sternly that they needed to leave when a sinister smile crossed his face. “But I’m afraid there won’t be a later for you.”

A wave of horror dawned on Keira. She looked at Cyrus and Terra, but they were completely mesmerized by the watch. Keira waved a hand in front of Cyrus’s eyes, but he didn’t even blink.

The elf stood up from his chair. All pretense of his cordial attitude had been dropped. “Well, well. Resistant, aren’t we?”

“Who are you and what do you want?” Keira asked, holding her whip ready to lash.

“Who am I? Doesn’t matter. What do I want? Your dear friend, Terra.”

“You’ll have to go through me,” Keira said through clenched teeth.

The silver-haired elf chuckled. “I thought your race might be immune. Now I know for sure.”

“What do you mean my race? You’re an elf, too.”

The man shook his head. “You creatures are so slow. I’m glad I don’t have to put up with you for long.” He turned to Cyrus and Terra and smirked.

“Kill her.”