The War of the Masters

Don’t separate from the group! Cyrus thought as he ran after Raiden. But it only took a second for him to lose sight of his friend in the unnatural mist. He stopped and looked around. He had lost sight of the others as well.

Changing his pace to a cautious walk, Cyrus headed back for the last spot he’d seen Terra at.

That’s when he heard the scream. It was Raiden’s.

Cyrus gave up his cautious advance and barreled toward the sound. If Raiden was injured, he had only seconds before a fatal blow would follow.

C’mon . . . Cyrus ground his teeth together. Where is he?

Looking left and right, he finally spotted the faint glow of the brilliant purple energy Raiden formed as his weapons. The sizzling violet bow sputtered, then faded completely, but Cyrus had seen it long enough to get his bearings.

His thick black boots pounded across the deck, propelling him closer to his friend. Raiden was crumpled on the ground, a look of surprise etched across his features. Stooping beside him, Cyrus turned Raiden on his back and saw a long, crimson gash scored across his chest.

He was dying. Fast.

“Over here!” Cyrus roared. Niadus, Keira, and Terra appeared beside him a moment later. “We’ve got to get him back to the Faithful! Now!”

Niadus, being the biggest and strongest, hefted Raiden up onto his shoulders and led the way to the adjacent vessel. Cyrus kept all his senses trained on their surroundings, ready to strike if the assailant should show himself. But nothing came at them. There was no scuttling of footsteps or the laughter of a young girl. Just rain, thunder . . . and the flute.

Niadus reached the grappling hook and zipped across it with one hand, sliding down the rope and back to the Faithful. Cyrus made sure to go last—just in case their attacker made another move, so that he would be the one to face them.

Back on their own ship, Niadus brought Raiden belowdecks and set him on the dining table. Madrina, with her extensive medical experience, lay both hands on his wounds and let the power of the Akieres flow through her. Cyrus watched in awe as the furrow in his chest closed over, staunching the bleeding instantly.

Cyrus took a deep breath. “Is he going to be all right?”

His mother nodded. “Yes—luckily you got him back to me in time. If these wounds had festered any longer . . . .” Her voice trailed off. “He should regain consciousness in an hour or two.”

Cyrus breathed a sigh of relief. That was too close. His hands clenched into fists. If Dameon shows his face I’m going to kill him.

He considered staying on the Faithful until Raiden recovered, and under normal circumstances he would have. But a girl’s life hung in the balance, and the longer they stayed tethered to the New Chapter, the worse things seemed to get.

“Then it’s just gonna be the four of us,” he said grimly.

Keira was not easily frightened. But she couldn’t deny the sense of dread washing over her as they boarded the enigmatic ship for the second time. There was some other force at work here . . . something unnatural. Keira didn’t like going up against things she didn’t understand. But if there was anyone who could get through it, it was the four of them.

And now Dameon has nearly killed Raiden. As if it wasn’t personal enough already.

Holding her kite shield in her right hand and her whip in the left, Keira sucked in a long breath and exhaled sharply, steeling her nerves for what was to come.

“This time we stay together,” Cyrus declared. “Everyone, form up back-to-back. We move as a single unit, watching every direction. This way nothing can sneak up on us like what happened to Raiden.”

Wise choice, Keira thought. She had once fought in the same fashion alongside her fellow elves.

Cyrus and Terra started forward, with Keira and Niadus facing behind them. Moving collectively, the four slowly made their way across the deck. This time they neither saw nor heard anything out of the ordinary.

“There,” Cyrus said.

Keira stole a glance in his direction. A short set of stairs with oak railings on either side led to a pair of wide doors. As the group descended the stairs, one of the doors opened of its own accord, creaking softly. Niadus glanced at Keira, a nervous twitch in his eye.

“They want us to go in,” Terra whispered.

“Keep calm,” Cyrus replied. “We’ll get through this together.”

Reflexively Keira pulled her shield closer to her body and stepped through the dark threshold. Once the four of them were inside the door closed just as mysteriously as it had opened, shrouding them in near total blackness. The soul-haunting music was louder here—loud enough for her to make out the notes through her earplugs. Keira knew she was supposed to keep her eyes in a single direction, but she couldn’t help but look over the room they had entered into.

It was unlike the belly of any ship she had been in before. It seemed more like the inside of a mansion than a sea-faring vessel. Four stone pillars supported the massive ceiling on the west side of the room. On the east wall, right beside them, were three circular windows looking outside. Lightning flashed, momentarily illuminating the chamber through those windows. A fireplace was built into the same wall. A few embers glowed from the ashes within, and Keira caught a faint whiff of smoke in the air. Someone had been here recently.

High above the fireplace was a portrait of a slim man with pale skin, a crooked nose, and short white hair even though he didn’t look a day past thirty. Haunting violet eyes set deep beneath his brow seemed to watch them as they drew closer. A serpent-like smile plastered across his face, his hands rested on the shoulders of a young girl with long blond hair. Her eyes were wide with terror and her lips looked to be caught mid-tremble.

Keira felt a surge of anger. Dameon. Hiding behind a little girl, no less.

“Look at how that snake is holding my daughter!” Niadus fumed. “I’m going to break both those weaselly hands before I slit his throat!”

“Stay focused,” Cyrus warned. “He’s trying to taunt us into making a mistake.”

Another bolt of lightning lit the chamber. In that second Keira saw a woman by the entrance they had just come through, a good fifteen feet away. She had long, drenched black hair, and her gaze never strayed from the floor. Her skin was chalk-white, same as the nightgown she was wearing.

Then the darkness closed back over them.

Keira felt her palms sweating over her whip and shield. She could still see the imprint of where the woman had been in her mind.

“I saw something,” Keira murmured. “A woman.”

To her left, she saw Terra start to turn in her direction.

“No,” Cyrus cautioned. “Keep looking the same way. If there’s an opening, even for a second, we’ll all be vulnerable. Keira, be on your guard. Tell us everything you see. If anyone attacks us, I’ll help you fight and Niadus will cover our flank. Got it?”

“Yeah,” Niadus said.

Keira nodded, then remembered they couldn’t see her. “Yes.”

She tried to swallow but her throat refused to cooperate. Her heart raced, and she imagined the woman coming closer . . .

Lightning struck again. It wasn’t her imagination.

The woman was closer.

Her soggy black hair covered her eyes, but with both hands she reached up and brushed it behind her ears. The woman’s face was sunken and ghastly, her teeth showing bare through her skinless jaw. Keira gasped in terror and lashed out with her whip. The woman vanished, and Keira’s weapon cracked harmlessly through the spot she had just stood.

And in that instant, Keira saw Dameon coming at her from above. His hand clamped down over her head, and she heard herself scream.

Cyrus whirled around to help Keira. The elf had fallen to her knees, but she appeared unharmed. Cyrus looked in every direction but he saw no signs of her assailant. Reaching out a hand, he helped her back to her feet.

“What happened?”

“I . . . I saw him,” Keira croaked, her eyes still wide with fright.

“Who?”

“Dameon . . . he came down from above.” Her words were slow and quiet as if she was having trouble forcing them out. “I felt his hand pressing against my skull—then he was gone.”

“Did he hurt you?”

“No. I . . . I think I’m okay. Let’s keep going.”

Cyrus took in a deep breath through his nose, trying to calm his nerves. They had faced down many threats together over the past few weeks, but this was like nothing he’d ever experienced. There was nothing for him to fight. Anything he tried only seemed to play further into his enemy’s hands. The powerlessness of the situation was beginning to eat at him, filling his body with a ghostly dread that he hadn’t thought possible.

Terra warned us about this. She told us not to fight Dameon at all costs. And now we know why.

Cyrus shook his head. He couldn’t allow fear to overwhelm him or they would never leave the ship alive. He had to be strong; he had to guide them through this.

Niadus gave him a slow nod, as if to say, I’m right behind you. Cyrus fell into position in the back-to-back formation, then glanced at their next obstacle. Two doors were set into the wall, one on their left, and the other on their right. The faint music seemed to call to him from somewhere beyond these doors, but he couldn’t tell from which one specifically.

“Which door?” he asked.

Silence at first, then Terra responded.

“Right.”

Holding his sword in front of him, Cyrus walked slowly toward the exit. He grasped the rusty knob and opened up the door with a loud, shaky creak. The chamber beyond was dark, but Cyrus saw enough to make his blood run cold.

It was exactly like the room they were in.

Terra couldn’t believe what she was looking at. Standing at the threshold, she tore her gaze from each chamber, studying every minute detail she could see through the gloom. The four pillars, the framed picture, the smoking fireplace—it was all the same.

No, she realized. It’s not. There are two discrepancies: the chamber we’re entering has a full-length mirror against the far wall, and there’s a glossy-white rocking chair off to one side.

The Princess wasn’t sure if the subtle differences made her more or less secure about proceeding farther in.

“Everyone rotate,” Cyrus ordered as they took their first steps in. “Last time they attacked from behind so Terra and I will watch our backs. Niadus, you and Keira take the lead.”

Terra drew her kitchen knife, hoping desperately that she wouldn’t have to use it. Lightning flashed, and in the brief illumination she saw writing scribbled on the walls. The words didn’t make any sense, but they were written in blood. Then the darkness closed over.

Did anyone else see that?

Terra wanted to know, but she couldn’t bring herself to voice the question.

Inching across the creaky wooden floorboards, they reached the center of the room, beside the fireplace.

“Huh. It’s Dameon,” Keira said casually.

“Where!?” Cyrus asked so loudly it caused Terra to jump.

“Right there.” Keira pointed to the portrait above the fireplace. “It’s a picture of Dameon. I know him . . . but I can’t remember from what.”

Terra’s mouth dropped open.

“Keira,” Cyrus said slowly, “Dameon is the one who just attacked you. He’s the one we’ve been after for weeks.”

Keira shook her head. “I don’t think so. I’ve known Dameon for a very long time; he wouldn’t attack me.”

Terra peeked over at Cyrus and saw his face turning white. For a long moment no one spoke, and the sound of the pouring rain and rumbling thunder filled the room. The Princess didn’t know if Keira was hallucinating—if all of them were hallucinating—or if everything they were seeing was perfectly real. But in either case, something had to be done.

“Cyrus, give me a boost,” she said suddenly.

Cyrus looked surprised by the unusual request, but he sheathed his sword and cupped his hands together. Planting one foot in his palms, Terra rose up and snatched the bottom of the portrait. Then she threw it on the ground beside them, stooped down, and punctured a hole with her knife through Dameon’s face.

“Whatever’s going on here isn’t going to—”

She stopped mid-sentence. The white rocking chair was swaying back and forth. Another bolt of lightning lit the room, and in that instance she saw the woman with the soaked hair rocking it.

The Princess could only stare in horrified bewilderment as the chair continued to sway to and fro. She tried to speak but her mouth felt like it was clogged with sand.

She tried again but Niadus beat her to the punch.

“I see the woman,” he murmured. “In the mirror. She’s walking up behind us.”

Terra was stunned. She and Cyrus were looking behind him; no one was there.

“It can’t be real,” Cyrus voiced for her. “I don’t see anything.”

“She’s walking around you,” Niadus muttered. “Steadily. Shuffling her feet. She’s . . . she’s almost here.”

“It’s just an illusion,” Cyrus shot back, his voice rising. “Remember what happened to Keira. If you move to attack her, Dameon will strike at your back.”

“Okay.” Niadus’s voice was shaky. “I—I won’t move.”

Terra felt her whole body trembling uncontrollably. She heard something like a stifled gasp, and every fiber in her being screamed for her to turn and see what was happening. The muffled noise grew steadily louder, like a strained cry for help. Unable to hold her gaze, the Princess turned to face Niadus.

The heavily muscled merman’s eyes were wide open, staring directly into those of the pale woman. His mouth was slack-jawed and his lower body spasmed. Beside her, Cyrus whirled around and lashed out with his sword. The blade carved a trace through the air where the woman’s neck had been, and she vanished instantaneously.

Terra breathed a sigh of relief.

Then a hand clamped down over her head.