The War of the Masters

Zarez Castle, Eastern Bergion

Colonel Fornes stepped into Governor Dravus’s study, the room lit by dozens of candles. A map of the Bergion-Koh’Lah border stretched across the desk and Dravus hunched over it, scouring the aged parchment.

“Excuse me, my lord,” Fornes interrupted. He brought bad news, but he was intrigued to see how Dravus would react and adjust his plans accordingly. No one could stand toe-to-toe with Dravus’s strategic genius, and Fornes enjoyed every opportunity he could to learn from him.

“What can I do for you, Colonel?” Dravus said, looking up from his table.

“I’m afraid we received disappointing news, my lord. The sector of the Liberation Movement under the charge of Minous was discovered and raided by Koh’Lahni forces. The entire branch was destroyed, and all the supplies we sent were confiscated.”

The stocky leader stroked his salt-and-pepper beard. “That’s to be expected. Minous was a fool.”

“What are the orders, my lord?”

“Contact the other four rebel branches. Instruct them to burn Minous’s sector to the ground.”

Fornes hesitated. “Yes, my lord.”

“Something wrong, Colonel?”

“No, my lord. I was just wondering why we are using the Liberation Movement. I understand that our long-term goal is Candore, because they are the only country left that poses a threat to us. And I understand that’s why we are going after their ally first. But we have the forces to take Koh’Lah; why not just march in?”

“Five years ago, I would have,” Dravus explained. “But with the growing fear of dragons among the population—coupled with the boy Emperor starting to flex some political muscle, we are now in a situation where we need to bring Koh’Lah to its knees before we ever tread their soil. The people of Bergion are more likely to accept a war with the dragons of Candore if we have miniscule casualties when we take Koh’Lah.”

Fornes grinned. “I see. And if we can take over Koh’Lah, we cut off Candore’s food supply. Then it’s only a matter of time until the Savage King is forced to surrender. We’ll be able to add Candore to the empire.”

“You are close, Fornes, but I don’t plan on conquering Candore. I plan on forcing the Savage King into a treaty. We don’t stand to gain much from the land itself—it’s just a rocky spire. But as we control their food supply, we control them—even the mightiest warrior submits to a growling stomach. They will swear fealty to us.” Dravus paused and looked Fornes straight in the eye. “Can you imagine a world where dragons are the first wave of Bergion’s attack force? We’ll be unstoppable.”

“It’s brilliant, my lord. Why haven’t you told the Emperor your plans?”

“I’m sure the boy Emperor will grow up to be a good man. But right now I’m not sure he’s mature enough to see what’s best for Bergion.”

Fornes nodded. “I understand. If it ever comes down to it, we are with you, my lord. All of eastern Bergion.”

Dravus smiled, walked around the desk and placed a hand on Fornes’s shoulder. “I know, my friend; I know. Hopefully it’ll never come to that. But in the end, I must always act on what is best for Bergion.”

Raiden stopped and let his eyes take in the beach before them. After a five-day hike they had finally reached the water’s edge surrounding Koh’Lah’s border. To the east stood the towering pillar of Candore, and beyond that, the Unknown Regions. This was the location he had specified in his letter. Hopefully the coordinates were clear enough.

“What exactly are we looking for?” Cyrus asked.

Raiden grinned. “Just wait for it. You won’t be disappointed.”

“Fair enough. I think we should wait in the shade, though.”

Leading the group to a tree several feet off the beach, Raiden plopped down under its swaying green branches and closed his eyes. The cool breeze coming off the ocean ruffled his blond hair, and the smell of salt water filled his nostrils. It was nice to just relax and enjoy the peaceful waves climbing the golden shore over and over.

He had always found the ocean fascinating, but had seldom traveled through it. The Imperial City of Bergion was situated on a canal connected to the sea, but Raiden had been far too busy with his training to visit it.

“There’s a ship coming,” Cyrus murmured. “Is that . . . ?”

“It is,” Kendal confirmed. “It’s our ship: the Faithful.”

Raiden rose to his feet and stood beside Cyrus. “I knew we needed a ship, so I sent word through my clan connections.”

Kendal whistled. “She sure is a sight for sore eyes.”

“But who’s sailing her?” Cyrus asked.

“Well, I remembered what you told me about your childhood friend, Tegrev, with the Liberation Movement. I figured we could kill two birds with one stone: He brought us the ship, and, therefore, wasn’t around to be captured when Admiral Lansing raided their base underneath Evidria.”

The main sail lowered, revealing Tegrev at the helm. He gave a big wave over his head, and Cyrus returned it.

“Thanks, Raiden,” Cyrus said. “It’s good to see he wasn’t captured with the rest of them.”

Raiden gave a slight nod, glad that he could make the others happy. Then something on the ship caught his eye. Rising out of the hold was a team carrying a large object. From this distance, Raiden guessed it was a crate.

“Uh, Raiden, what is that?” Cyrus asked.

Raiden shrugged. “I have no idea. It’s nothing I sent for.”

“Oh, no.” Cyrus rolled his eyes. “I think I know what it is . . .”

“Faster, you piglets!” a voice spat out.

Cyrus looked at the small cadre of soldiers approaching. From their mismatched uniforms, he recognized them as members of the Liberation Movement. Six of the men were carrying what appeared to be a small, one-man sized tent resting on two long poles. Sweat marred the men’s brows, and from their heavy breathing Cyrus could tell the load was taking its toll.

“Stop over there, in the shade!” the voice commanded, coming from within the tent. The men did as they were instructed, struggling to keep the weight supported between them. Once they were in the shade of the ship, two different soldiers hurried over and pulled the tent cover off, revealing a portly man with a patchy, saliva-coated beard.

Minous, Cyrus remembered. Figures that he was gone when Lansing shut down their underground camp.

The last time he’d seen Minous was in the sewers—where he belonged—when Cyrus had promised to join the Liberation Movement and help its efforts from afar. Of course, Cyrus had no intentions of doing so, but he didn’t want Minous to know that.

The grotesque man rolled his weight forward, moving out of his ornate chair so he could stand up. The men holding him winced but held their ground. Minous took a loud bite of the green apple he was eating from. Pieces of the fruit clung to his white clothing. He tossed the core behind him and it smacked one of the soldiers in the face.

“Well, well, if it isn’t Cyrus!” Minous said, flinging spit across the ground and into his men’s hair. Cyrus was thankful that he was far enough away not to be sprayed by it.

“Most Esteemed One,” Cyrus replied, remembering to use the title he was so fond of. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“I came looking for soldiers to recruit to our worthy cause,” Minous said. “I didn’t expect to see you here. Tell me: how go your efforts for the Movement?”

“Excellent,” Cyrus lied. “I’ve managed to convince the agents Candore sent, as well as several Koh’Lahni officials, that our organization is nothing but a hoax. They should give you no further problems, enabling you to strike when it’s most convenient for you.”

“Wonderful!” Minous said, picking out one of the crumbs from his beard. He stared at it for a full five seconds before popping it into his mouth. “This is good news for the Movement.”

“I aim to please, Most Esteemed One.”

Minous smiled and licked his lips. Beneath him, the men’s faces were turning red from the exertion of holding him up. “In your travels, have you run across any individuals willing to join our organization? How about these people here with you?”

“My colleagues and I need to maintain the appearance of wealthy merchants to divert attention away from the cause,” Cyrus said quickly. “I’m afraid I can spare none of them for your army.”

“Hmph! Watch yourself, Cyrus.” Minous waggled his chubby index finger. “You overstep your grounds.”

“Forgive me, Most Esteemed One. I only want to serve the Movement to the best of my abilities.”

“Yes, I see. Fine. Carry on, then.”

One of the soldiers beneath Minous couldn’t hold his weight any longer; he collapsed to the ground. One by one they all toppled over, unable to maintain the strain.

Cyrus stifled a laugh as Minous rolled down the pile of men and landed on his back like an overturned tortoise. Together, Cyrus and Raiden barely managed to help him to a sitting position. Without so much as a thank you, Minous chastised his cowering, exhausted men.

Looks like I’m done here.

Cyrus turned past Minous and walked down to the dock. Tying off one last rope, Tegrev jumped onto dry land to meet him.

“Tegrev, it’s good to see you,” Cyrus said with a smile.

“You as well, old friend,” Tegrev replied, giving Cyrus a hug. “I return the Faithful to her rightful owners.”

“Did she treat you well?”

Tegrev nodded. “Much better than I treated her. It’s been a while since I’ve been on the open sea—I’m a bit rusty. But it was nice.”

“You could join us,” Cyrus offered. “We’re about to set sail again.”

“As much as I would like to, you know I can’t,” Tegrev said. A distant gleam shone in his eyes. “I have a mission to complete.”

Cyrus shrugged. “Can’t blame me for trying.”

“That’s true, but I must—”

Tegrev was interrupted by a loud splashing sound beside the dock. Looking up, Cyrus saw the silhouette of a merman outlined in the sun. His tail morphed into two legs an instant before he landed on the dry, wooden dock. The merman wore a sleeveless hunter green uniform, exposing his heavily muscled arms. A black scimitar dangled at his side, and three medals were pinned to the front of his shirt. Apart from the dripping water, his attire was crisp and unblemished—the picture of professionalism.

Instinctively Cyrus unsheathed his new sword and spread his feet in a fighting stance. The merman standing in front of them raised his hands to his side.

“Please wait,” he said calmly. “I mean you no harm.”

Cyrus remained motionless. The encounter with the hypnotist was still fresh in his mind, and he was determined not to be caught off guard again. “Who are you?”

“My name is Niadus, and I’ve come for your help.”

“Odd way of approaching someone you need aid from,” Cyrus noted.

“I’m sorry I startled you, but it’s urgent.”

Cyrus heard the rest of the group coming on to the dock, but he didn’t take his eyes off Niadus.

“Everything all right here?” Raiden asked.

“We’re about to find out,” Cyrus replied. “What’s so urgent, Niadus?”

A troubled look crossed his features. “It’s my daughter. A man named Dameon kidnapped her.”

Cyrus bristled. Dameon. It seems like he’s always one step ahead of us.

He took a peek at the Luduan curled up beside Terra’s feet. The creature sat still, looking up at him with glossy black eyes.

Niadus is telling the truth; his daughter has been taken.

Cyrus’s heart went out to the man. He remembered the family at Cordova and shuddered.

Never again.

Standing up straight, he sheathed his blade and looked at the distraught father before him.

“How can we help?”

Hands clasped behind his back, Dameon strode leisurely through his ship, the New Chapter. He pushed open a wooden door with a soft creaking sound. In the chamber beyond, a young girl with long blond hair sat against the back wall, her left ankle chained to the floor. Her name was Laurel, a mermaid home to the underwater cities far beneath the ocean’s surface. Like all her people, her tail fin transformed into normal human legs when on dry land. Upon seeing him enter, she rose to her feet.

“Who are you?” she asked. Her tone was meant to be intimidating, but a slight tremor in her voice betrayed her trepidation.

“I am Dameon,” he said pleasantly.

“What do you want with me?”

Dameon smirked and walked casually toward her, kneeling down so he could look her in the eye.

“Nothing.”

Laurel wore a puzzled expression. “Then let me go.”

“Oh, not yet, my sweet,” Dameon said. “You’re bait. Here only to lure Terra to my ship.”

“Who’s Terra?”

“The sister of my master, Prince Lozarrik. He comes to me when he’s done toying with his prey and wants things finished.”

Laurel raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

Dameon smirked. “He wants her dead.”

Swallowing hard, Laurel unconsciously took a step back. “W-what will happen to me?”

Dameon ran his hand through her blond hair and stood up. “You’ll be set free; there’s no reason to keep you or kill you once Terra’s been eliminated.”

Reaching to his back, Dameon pulled out the flute he’d taken from her and dropped it on the floor beside her.

Laurel looked even more confused. “You’re giving this back to me?”

Dameon laughed. “Of course. I want you to play your song and draw them in. And so do you.” He paused. “The longer it takes them to get here, the longer you’re stuck on my ship.”

“What if I refuse?”

Dameon’s smile faded. “Then I’ll hunt down your father. And trust me; I won’t extend to him the same mercy I have to you.”

Slowly, Dameon made his way out of the room, pausing to close the door behind him. After a long moment he heard her tantalizing melody emanating through the New Chapter, and a ghastly smile twisted across his lips.

Sitting on the starboard edge of their vessel, Cyrus took in a deep breath and listened to the waves splash against the sides of the ship. Like his parents, he loved the water. The cool spray of the sea was refreshing after their long journey through his home country of Koh’Lah.

For days he and the others had been sailing on his father’s ship, the Faithful, their course set for where Niadus believed his daughter had been taken. The sky was a gray overcast, and a gentle sprinkling rain was starting to come down.

Cyrus hopped onto the deck and strode past his father. Kendal was busy keeping the ship clean while Niadus navigated toward their destination. From belowdecks came the unusual smells of the meal Ra’Nu and Madrina were preparing, and on the port side of the vessel stood Raiden, looking out at sea. His friend grinned and threw back the hood of his dark green cloak as Cyrus approached.

“How are you liking our voyage?” Cyrus asked.

“It’s been nice,” Raiden answered. “This is only the second ship I’ve been on, but I’ve always enjoyed my time at sea.”

“Did you travel much with the Tanis clan?”

Raiden shook his head. “Not at sea. Most of my time was spent learning to track, survive in the wilderness, and fight.”

“All of which you excel at,” Cyrus noted. “Can all of your people draw forth energy like you?”

“Yes. Well, most of them. But the other members of my clan prefer to forge swords with their energy, rather than projectiles.”

“Why is that?”

Raiden shrugged. “Tradition, mostly. One of the simplest tactics of the Tanis is to channel more energy into their sword halfway through a fight, surprising the enemy and cutting through their blade to finish them off.

“In fact,” Raiden continued, “it’s so effective that most of my people become experts at fencing for those first few passes when they’re lulling an enemy into a false sense of security.”

“That does sound brilliant,” Cyrus conceded. “Did you ever learn to do that?”

“No, I never took the time to learn basic sword play,” Raiden said with a smile. “The last time I fought in close quarters was bad, to say the least.”

“Is that why you went a different route with your power?”

Raiden considered. “Not really. I’ve always had a vivid imagination, and seeing if I can create the image in my head is like a mini-adventure for me. It allows me greater freedom to analyze a situation and come up with something on the fly.”

Cyrus nodded. “Sounds about like my strategy.”

Raiden grinned. “Great minds think alike, and all that.”

The pair high-fived and then a crafty thought entered Cyrus’s mind. “I forgot to mention, I think Keira’s been looking for you,” he said. It wasn’t exactly true; Keira had only mentioned Raiden, but he knew both parties wanted to talk to each other.

Cyrus saw Raiden’s hazel eyes light up. “She did? Where was she?”

“Right over there,” Cyrus replied, pointing in the elf’s direction.

“All right,” Raiden said, exhaling sharply as though getting ready for a dangerous mission. “I’m gonna go talk to her.”

“Okay. I think I’ll see what Terra’s up to.”

As Cyrus made his way toward the Princess, he overheard Raiden practicing his opening line.

Those two are always so awkward around each other, he thought with a smile.

As he walked across deck Cyrus saw that Terra was playing a game with T’Saunté; the dragon was scurrying around in his miniature form, occasionally hiding behind a barrel, or darting down some stairs as the Princess laughed and smiled in her efforts to catch him.

Winded from the exertion, Terra held up a hand and said, “You win, T’Saunté. Best three out of five tomorrow?”

The dragon gave out an excited yelp and scuttled over to the stern of the ship near Lucky. The little Leprechaun had a terrible case of seasickness but he wasn’t tall enough to vomit over the side of the ship. Instead, he had taken to bringing a thimble with him so he wouldn’t leave a mess that—in his words—“the ladies wouldn’t like”.

“Terra,” Cyrus called out as he approached, his footsteps creaking over the wooden floorboards. “How’s T’Saunté’s wing?”

Terra flashed a smile. “Fully healed, thanks to you!”

“Good, he looks like he’s doing better.” Cyrus put his hands in his pockets. “So, tell me more about this castle of yours. We’ll be sailing there once we help Niadus rescue his daughter.”

“Hmm.” Terra put her hand on her chin. “Well, the island’s about five miles in diameter, mostly covered by a thick jungle. There’s a small mountain on the east coast, and nestled in the side of it is the Castle of a Thousand Blades.”

Cyrus raised an eyebrow. “That a family name?”

Terra laughed. “I couldn’t tell you. I don’t even think my father knows. But that’s where we’ll be calling home soon. And it’s where the meeting my grandmother scheduled will take place.”

“Right, the meeting in six months between all the siblings,” Cyrus remembered. “Any chance we’ll all make it through that without bloodshed?”

“Knowing my brothers and sisters, I doubt it,” Terra admitted.

Cyrus was about to ask more about her siblings when Ra’Nu came forth from belowdecks. As soon as he saw her, Lucky began sauntering toward her.

“Hmm. Hold that thought,” Cyrus said to Terra. “This might be worth watching.”

Lucky’s stomach felt like it was on fire, and the constant rocking back and forth wasn’t helping. Obviously an assassin must have slipped onto the ship and poisoned his food when he wasn’t looking. But Lucky’s legendary immune system was too strong for such a cowardly trick; instead of being killed by the toxin, he was just a little nauseous. It slowed him down, but it wouldn’t stop him from showing Cyrus and Raiden a thing or two about courting the ladies.

Setting his vomit bucket on the deck, Lucky marched up to Ra’Nu with such suave charm that the beautiful blonde noticed him right away. She sniffed the air—obviously his masculine cologne had delighted her nostrils!

“Excuse me,” he said, dropping his voice an octave, “I couldn’t help but notice that love is in the air.”

Ra’Nu turned her head, looking around to find where the voice was coming from.

“Down here!” Lucky called out.

Ra’Nu dropped her gaze toward the Leprechaun. “Oh, I’m sorry. What were you talking about?”

He gestured to Cyrus and Terra, then to Raiden and Keira, making sure to flex his massive muscles each time he pointed.

The little Leprechaun gave an easy smile. “I’m thinking we should all go on a triple date sometime, gorgeous!”

“Uhh . . .”

“After all,” Lucky continued, “you’re from a land of giants, so what would be more impressive than dating someone who is a vanquisher of giants?”

“Well, er . . .” Ra’Nu murmured, shifting her stance uncomfortably. Clearly she was a little shy in the presence of greatness! Lucky knew just the thing that would put her mind at ease.

Reaching to his side, he pulled out the Twig of Doom—the fabled weapon he had used to save Cyrus’s life.

“Pretty impressive, eh?” he asked. “By the way, if I was tall enough to see the color of your eyes, I would compliment you right now on how beautiful they are!”

Somewhere Lucky heard a snicker. He glanced over to see a broad smile on Cyrus and Terra’s faces as they watched him make his move.

That’s right, boys and girls! Watch the master in action . . . I really should charge admission!

Ra’Nu looked at him. “You see, Lucky, I—”

She stopped mid-sentence, her eyes fixated on something in the distance.

“What’s wrong, Angel Dumpling?”

Without a word, Ra’Nu knelt down and lifted Lucky up so he could see what she was looking at. Floating wreckage of a ship twice the size of theirs drifted through the waters. Turning his gaze to the other side of the Faithful, Lucky saw more chunks of debris floating aimlessly through the sea.

And then, slowly, a thick fog began to engulf the Faithful.