The War of the Masters

Terra didn’t say anything, but standing ankle deep in floating feces was enough to make her skin crawl. Cyrus’s friend, Tegrev, was leading them through the tunnels with surprising quickness. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but for some reason Tegrev made her feel uneasy. Briefly she was tempted to read his mind and see exactly what it was that set her on edge, but she controlled herself. Her abilities were invasive, and no matter how much she wanted to, she wouldn’t abuse that power. She decided years ago that she would only read minds in self-defense. Communicating telepathically, however, was a different story.

Cyrus, she projected with her mind. Can you hear me?

Without looking back, he answered, Loud and clear. What’s up?

What can you tell me about your friend?

We go way back, Cyrus answered. His parents died when we were kids. After that, he moved into his aunt’s house, just down the street from us. We became really close friends; I think he spent more time at our house than his aunt’s.

Then, he continued, a couple years ago, he grew more distant. Whenever I tried to talk to him, he simply ignored me. Over time I stopped talking to him altogether, so I was a little surprised that he’s helping us.

What do you think he meant by ‘The enemy of my enemy is my friend’? Terra asked, still eyeing Tegrev.

I have no idea, and I’ve never heard of an underground camp, or this Minous.

Something’s not right here, she warned.

I agree. Be on your guard, and no matter what I say, play along, Cyrus replied. As he glanced back, Terra could see the stress etched on his face, and she felt a pang of guilt for dragging him into this mess.

“Cyrus,” Tegrev called, interrupting their telepathic conversation. “There are some ground rules for when you meet Minous: First, refer to him as ‘Esteemed One’.”

Cyrus let out a short laugh. “That seems a little ridiculous. Who does he think he is?”

Tegrev shot him an icy glare. “Second rule: keep that sharp tongue to yourself, or he’ll have both our necks.”

Terra forced the smile off her face and elbowed Cyrus.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize,” he said, still trying not to laugh.

Ignoring him, Tegrev continued. “And third: never say ‘no’ to him. If you tell him no, regardless of what the request is, he’ll have you killed.”

What a peach! Terra projected into Cyrus’s mind. She flashed a grin and he looked away, trying to keep his composure.

Terra knew she should probably be taking this guy more seriously. From the way Tegrev talked, Minous was a monster. But having grown up in her family, she knew what real monsters were. Whoever this man was, he was nothing compared to her father or her siblings.

“Remember those rules and you’ll be fine,” Tegrev assured them as he stepped up to a large iron door. “We’re here.”

Tegrev pounded his fist against the door twice, each strike reverberating through the tunnel. A metal peephole slid open, then shut. The door opened, and a man welcomed them in.

“I see you brought new recruits, Tegrev,” the doorman said.

“They’re here to speak with Minous. Nothing has been decided yet,” Tegrev replied flatly as he walked on in.

Cyrus studied the chamber Tegrev led them through. Several branches sprouted off from the main room, and at the far end of the tunnel was a large embankment populated with tents. As Tegrev marched through the miniature village, Cyrus committed the route he took to memory. He hoped to talk his way through this, but if things went poorly he wanted to know the quickest way out of here.

Tents rustled as droves of people crawled out, staring at them to the point that Cyrus felt uncomfortable. Past the tents they saw a potbellied, grotesque man sitting on a gaudy, elevated throne overlooking the camp. Pus oozed from a boil on his left temple, and particles of his leftover lunch dotted his saliva-matted beard.

“Esteemed One,” Tegrev said with a slight bow. “I have brought some guests that you might find interesting. This is Cyrus and Terra; they are the ones the army is searching for. It seems they are enemies of Candore.”

“Interesting,” the leader responded. Cyrus cringed as Minous’s spittle sprayed his face. The man leaned forward, causing the chair to groan under the heavy exertion of his weight. “Someone who is able to draw the ire of the Savage King is most assuredly welcome here.”

“Thank you, Most Esteemed One,” Cyrus replied, “But if you don’t mind me asking, what is it that your, um, organization does exactly?”

Minous grinned and launched into what seemed to be a prepared speech: “We call ourselves the Liberation Movement. In recent years, our once great country of Koh’Lah has become corrupt with oppression and deceit. We have realized that our government must be overthrown so that the people can regain true freedom.”

Cyrus stood there, dumbfounded. He couldn’t believe a single person would consider Koh’Lah’s rules to be oppressive, let alone an entire movement. He had to learn more.

“Are you the leader of the entire Liberation Movement?”

“No, I’m only in charge of this region.” From the venom in his tone, Minous obviously felt he deserved better. “The supreme leader resides in a place that only the other region leaders and I know of. Our organization hinges on secrecy; we can never be too careful.”

“I understand, Most Esteemed One,” Cyrus replied. He didn’t like what he was about to say, but he knew he had to tread carefully now—the slightest mistake and they would never leave these tunnels. “You will strike only when your enemy is most vulnerable.”

Minous paused a moment, then a disturbing laugh erupted from deep within his stomach. “I like you, kid. I think I’ll let you live. I look forward to seeing what you can do for the Movement.”

The leader smirked one last time and then dismissed them with a wave of his hand. Three rebel soldiers stepped forward and pointed them toward the camp.

“Forgive me, Most Esteemed One,” Cyrus said quickly, “but what do you mean by ‘what we can do for the Movement’?”

“Consider it, young man,” Minous spat out. “You know too much about the Movement for me to let you go, but I like you too much to kill. The only logical solution is for you to join us. I know that Candore is your enemy, but Koh’Lah is their devoted ally. It will have to be close enough for you. So on behalf of everyone here, welcome to the Movement.”

Cyrus grimaced. He wanted nothing more than to escape and report Minous to the authorities. But right now, the authorities wanted him much more than any underground rebel. His mind flashed back to what Tegrev said earlier. Never say ‘No’ to Minous.

“Of course I want to join you, Most Esteemed One,” Cyrus said with a charismatic smile. “My own country has turned its back on me; I owe them no allegiance. But I have an idea of how we could best serve the cause.”

“Speak,” Minous commanded.

“Our enemies are one and the same. But if Terra and I stay here, what good are we to you? At best, we are merely two more foot soldiers in your army. However, if you let us go, then you have an ally topside who can retrieve information and bring you aid when you most need it.”

Minous snarled. “No. And I’m liking you less and less. Guards, seize them.”

Six soldiers surrounded them immediately, grabbing their arms.

“You haven’t heard the best part yet!” Cyrus called out as they were being dragged away. The guards stopped and looked at Minous. For a tense moment the leader paused. Finally, he nodded and the soldiers let go. Cyrus adjusted his clothes before continuing.

“Thank you, Most Esteemed One. Obviously I want to be placed in the best position to help the Movement. That place is not here. Think about it: the entire village of Evidria is searching for me. Heck, the entire nation of Koh’Lah is searching for me. And if I’m here when the Dragon Riders come looking, what do you think will happen to the Movement?”

Minous winced and the boil on his head reddened.

“However, if I stay on the run I provide a giant distraction for your secret organization, better allowing the Liberation Movement to work in the shadows. And once you’re ready to make your move, Koh’Lah will be crushed.”

“Hmmm.” Minous leaned back in his chair and stroked his slimy beard. “Delicious.”

Did he just say . . . delicious?

Cyrus pushed the thought from his mind. “I’m only trying to best serve the Movement, Most Esteemed One.”

“Tegrev, you are the one who brought these two in. Do you think they can be trusted?”

“Sir, I’ve known Cyrus my entire life, and there is one thing I can say about him: he is adaptable,” Tegrev answered. He looked at Cyrus before continuing. “I think we can trust him.”

Minous paused and considered his options. Cyrus did his best to appear calm and confident.

“You have Tegrev to vouch for you,” Minous finally said, “and I see the merit to your plan. Very well, go and provide us cover, and I promise you that the dreams of a liberated Koh’Lah will soon come true.”

Cyrus bowed. “Thank you, Most Esteemed One.”

“Feel free to stop by our supply tent on your way out. Wurly will help you stock up for your journey,” Minous advised.

The crowd dispersed and Tegrev beckoned for them to follow. Cyrus waited until Minous was out of sight before breathing a sigh of relief. He couldn’t believe the situation he was in. Literally overnight he had become a wanted fugitive in Candore and his home country.

A gentle hand fell across his shoulder. He turned to see Terra, looking at him with a disarming smile and her stunning emerald eyes.

Good job, Cyrus, she projected into his mind. I’m glad you’re here with me.

Her words brought him comfort. He couldn’t help but smile back.

“We’re here,” Tegrev said, pulling the tent flap open and allowing Cyrus and Terra to enter. The shelter was large—filled mostly with food and water, except for a small table in the center with a few swords and shields. Behind the desk was an old man leaning on a cane. His white, bushy eyebrows nearly covered his eyes and his wrinkled neck hung low like a pelican’s.

“Hello, sir,” Cyrus said with a firm nod. “We’re looking for supplies.”

“Well hello, missy!” The old man said to Terra, completely ignoring Cyrus. He limped over to them and held out his cane, pushing Cyrus aside. “What can ol’ Wurly do for such an exotic flower as you?”

Cyrus snapped his fingers twice in front of the old man’s face, briefly grabbing his attention. “How much does one of those swords cost?”

“One hundred gold coins,” Wurly answered, looking back to Terra. The Princess began to fidget beneath his unnerving gaze.

“A hundred gold coins!? That’s enough to buy a small boat!” Cyrus protested.

The old lecher shrugged. “That’s what it costs. But . . . I’ll give you free pick of anything in the store if this fine lady gives me a smooch,” he offered, reaching out to grab Terra by the shoulders.

Cyrus moved like a blur, jumping between them, and shoving Wurly’s hands away from the Princess.

“Terra, please wait outside,” he instructed, barely restraining the anger rising within him.

“Gladly,” she replied, handing Cyrus the coin pouch before she left. Once the tent flap closed behind her, Cyrus returned his attention to the old man.

“Listen,” Cyrus said, his voice dropping to a threatening whisper. “I don’t care if you try to cheat me on some swords, but you will not make Terra feel like a slab of meat! You got that?”

Wurly tore his gaze from the exit Terra had passed through and finally looked Cyrus in the eyes. A smile stretched across his wrinkled face, revealing several missing teeth.

“At last, a worthy man!”

Cyrus blinked twice, sure that he’d misheard the lecher.

Wurly limped back to the table. “I think I have just the sword for you, and you can have it a discount,” he said as he opened a secret compartment in the desk.

“Wait, are you telling me this was all a test?”

Wurly beamed. “Why, yes! More specifically, a test of your manhood. I’ve held onto this blade for years, waiting for the right individual to come along: someone who could live up to its name.” There was a loud shing as the man removed a long, slender sword. The steel was black as night, a sharp contrast to its snow-white hilt. Engraved on one side of the grip was a shield, and on the other was the word Protector. Wurly held the blade out in both hands for Cyrus.

Hesitantly, he grabbed the sword and slashed it once through the air. The blade was a little heavy for his tastes, but it was a serious upgrade from the fishing knife he’d been using.

“Instead of a hundred—let’s say twenty gold,” Wurly said.

Cyrus checked the money pouch. There were about eighty gold coins inside.

“You’ve got a deal. Thank you,” Cyrus murmured, paying the man.

“Hehe! Don’t mention it, kid! And remember ol’ Wurly if you ever need something!” the old man cackled as he limped back to his chair behind the desk. Before Cyrus could say anything else the merchant closed his droopy eyes, rested his head on the table, and started to snore.

I guess I didn’t want to buy anything else, Cyrus thought as sheathed the sword and secured it on his belt. I don’t think today could get any weirder.

“Hey,” Terra greeted him once he left the tent. “Thanks for standing up for me back there.”

Cyrus smiled. “Anytime. Now let’s get out of here.”

Tegrev led them out of the camp, passing through the iron door and into another tunnel.

“How long of a walk is it?” Cyrus asked as he came alongside his old friend.

“About five minutes,” Tegrev answered.

Cyrus handed the coin pouch back to Terra. “I bought a sword; I hope you don’t mind.”

“Not at all,” she replied. “How much was it?”

“Only twenty gold after he lowered the price.”

Tegrev chuckled. “Did he give you that bit about passing his test?”

Cyrus paused. “Yeah. How did you know that?”

“He tries that on all his customers, pretending to lower the price because they’re special in some way.”

Cyrus shook his head and sighed. Looks like I got taken.

“Now that it’s just us,” Tegrev said, “I want to ask you one last time to join the Movement.”

Cyrus frowned. “What are you talking about? Didn’t you hear my deal with Minous? I’m already part of The Movement.”

Tegrev smiled and shook his head. “I’ve known you my entire life, Cyrus. It’s like I told Minous: you’re adaptable. You’ve always been able to talk your way out of things. Just like the time your mother caught us eating the pie she made for your father. Do you remember that?”

Cyrus’s mind jumped back to when they were eight years old. “Yeah, I told her that you hadn’t eaten for a day, and you were starving. Which was true.”

“Yes, and your mother wasn’t mad at me. When she asked why you were eating with me, do you remember what you told her?”

“I said she’d taught me it was rude to make someone eat alone!” Cyrus and Tegrev shared a laugh at the fond memory. “My mother couldn’t keep a straight face. I didn’t even get in trouble.”

“Those were the good ol’ days,” Tegrev said before giving Cyrus a more serious look. “But my point is this: I know you weren’t being honest with Minous. You haven’t joined us. At best, you’re only thinking about it.”

“So why didn’t you rat me out?”

“Because I already lost my parents; I didn’t want to watch you die as well.”

Cyrus was startled. “I didn’t realize you still cared about our friendship,” he said honestly. “Thank you.”

Tegrev sighed. “I know I haven’t been a good friend to you the last few years. I was trying to distance myself from my old life so when it was time for the Movement to strike, I wouldn’t have any attachments holding me back. Obviously it didn’t work. But I hope I can help you see the truth; Koh’Lah’s leadership has become corrupt and deceitful. And I’d like you at my side when we stop them.”

Cyrus waited a long moment before answering. “I’m sorry, Tegrev. I know that Koh’Lah has turned against me, but I still can’t take part in destroying my home country. I believe there’s more to this than meets the eye.”

Tegrev nodded. “Fair enough, Cyrus. Just promise me you’ll think about what I said.”

“All right. How did you end up joining the Movement, anyway?”

“Maybe some day I’ll tell you, but for now, this is it. This is the closest I can get you to your parents’ house.” Tegrev reached out and touched a manhole cover just inches above their heads. “Good luck, old friend.”

Cyrus shook his hand. “Thank you for everything.”

Tegrev turned and made his way back down the tunnel.

My old friend is still in there somewhere . . . Maybe one day . . .

Once Tegrev was gone, he looked at Terra and sighed.

“This has been tough.”

“I know,” Terra reassured him with a warm smile, “but just think, we’re almost to your family. Soon they’ll be safe, and we’ll be on our way. The hard part is almost over.”

“True,” he said reluctantly. Taking a deep breath, he cracked the cover open and peeked out.

Scanning the terrain, he saw that his parents’ house sat diagonal from where they were, only fifty feet away, with no guard in sight. Cyrus pushed the cover aside and climbed out, pausing to help Terra up. Grabbing her hand, they sprinted to the edge of his parents’ property, ducking low behind one of the bushes to catch their breath.

Suddenly a deep, ominous roar shook Cyrus’s chest. He looked up to see a massive dragon, easily four times the size of T’Saunté’s larger form, flying overhead. The dragon bore countless scars across its steel-gray scales, and its eyes were like obsidian stones: black and soulless. Perched on the dragon’s shoulders Cyrus spotted the faint form of a Rider.

“Who is that?” Cyrus asked, still gazing at the sky as the creature flew over them. The dragon touched down at the top of the hill next to the governor’s mansion. When Terra failed to respond, Cyrus looked back at her.

Goosebumps crawled across her quivering skin, and a sheen of sweat dampened her forehead. Terra’s lips mouthed something, but her eyes never left the man who had just flown over. Cyrus leaned in closer so he could hear what she was mumbling.

“It’s Kane . . . my second eldest brother.”