The War of the Masters
Chapter Seventeen

Terra stretched her arms above her head and let out a wide yawn. After the rescue mission the day before, everyone had passed out in exhaustion, including herself. She pushed to a sitting position and looked over the hotel room. Her companions lay motionless, sleeping in whatever spot they could replace in the small hotel room. Except for Cyrus and Raiden.

Terra quietly rose and tiptoed over a few motionless bodies, careful not to wake anyone. Grabbing a coat, she secured her shoes and slipped through the balcony door. Cyrus was leaning on the rail, watching the snow fall over the little town of Cordova.

“Hey,” she said, leaning on the rail beside him. “I thought I’d replace you here.”

“Hey,” he replied, barely turning to face her. His voice sounded sullen and his eyes were bloodshot.

I don’t think he slept at all.

“A lot on your mind?” she asked softly.

“Yeah.” His voice came out barely more than a whisper.

“Are you all right?”

He hesitated a moment before answering. “No . . . not really. I keep thinking about Dameon, and his experiments. All those people . . .” Cyrus paused to take a deep breath. He was a mixture of grief and anger, like he was struggling to hold back tears or keep from punching a wall.

“Dameon’s a monster,” Terra murmured. She placed a hand on his back and gave a soft smile. “But we saved as many as we could.”

Cyrus sighed. “I know . . . but Dameon’s still out there. We have to replace him, Terra. We have to stop him before this happens again. I won’t tell anoth—”

Cyrus stopped abruptly. He turned his head away from her.

“Cyrus . . . what’s wrong?”

Closing his eyes, he let out a sigh. His mouth opened, then closed. Whatever he was trying to say wasn’t easy on him.

“Yesterday,” he said, his voice so quiet Terra could barely hear him, “I had to tell a mother and father . . . that their teenage son was never coming home.”

Cyrus clasped his hands on the rail. His knuckles were white, though whether from the cold morning air or from being clenched so tightly, she couldn’t tell. Seeing the pain in Cyrus’s eyes was forming tears in her own.

“Cyrus . . . I’m sorry,” Terra said gingerly. Without another word she reached out her arms and hugged him, hoping to assuage some of his pain. Their embrace only lasted a few seconds, but when she let go, Terra saw Cyrus smile for the first time that day. It faded almost immediately, replaced by a look in his eyes she hadn’t seen before: an unwavering resolve.

“I promised them I would replace Dameon and end this, so that no other family would have to go through what they did. My word is my oath—I have to do this.”

A smile stretched across Terra’s lips. “I’m with you. To the end.”

“Thank you,” he replied with a haggard smile.

The sound of the hotel door opening caught their attention. Terra turned to see Raiden entering the room, brushing the snow off his thick wool coat.

Stepping off the balcony, Terra and Cyrus closed the door behind them. The rest of the party was starting to wake up.

“Raiden,” Cyrus asked, “in your time guarding the Magistrate, did you overhear anything about Dameon’s future plans?”

“I’m afraid not,” Raiden answered. “I was actually just out trying to track him, but it’s been too long. The trail’s gone cold.”

“Think back. Was there anything they said that stood out in your mind, something that might be a clue to where he’s gone?”

“I wasn’t with the Magistrate very long.” Raiden paused a moment, then his eyes lit up. “But I do remember them talking about the Avenoxi Tribe. Does that mean anything to you?”

“Avenoxi?” Terra asked, looking around the room. Judging by the reactions of the others, they had heard of the tribe before.

“I thought that just was a fairy tale,” Cyrus said.

“So did I,” Madrina agreed.

“Sounds like it might be real after all,” Kendal murmured.

Terra raised an eyebrow. “Who are the Avenoxi?” She had spent years studying the mysterious creatures of the Unknown Regions, but she had never researched Koh’Lah or its legends. She was curious to learn more.

“No one really knows much about them,” Kendal explained. “The Avenoxi are rumored to be one of the earliest human tribes. Legends say that one day they simply vanished into the thickest forest of Koh’Lah and were never seen again. Many explorers have set out to replace them; most never came back.”

“Spooky,” Terra said. “What would Dameon want with the Avenoxi?”

Cyrus shook his head. “I don’t know. It’s a long shot, but it’s the only lead we have.”

“So how do we plan on replaceing them?”

“I think I know where we can start,” Raiden said with a grin.

Raiden led Cyrus, Terra, and Keira down the hotel steps and into the cold morning air. Sometime during the night the rain had changed to snow, leaving a thin white blanket on top of a layer of ice, still undisturbed by human touch.

“Where are we going?” Cyrus asked.

“Once Magistrate Hispen took control of the town, the laws governing Cordova became much more abrasive,” Raiden explained. “Taxes skyrocketed, and the people were struggling to make ends meet. So a black market was formed, giving the people a way to buy and sell unseen. It’s the only way they could survive. If it’s information we want, then I would suggest starting there.”

“Good idea,” Keira said.

Cyrus put his hands in his coat pockets as they walked the simple village roads. A few minutes later they reached the marketplace.

“The black market agent pretends to be a fish vendor,” Raiden explained. “He should be getting to his shop soon.”

This early in the morning all the stores were empty except for one shady man standing behind a rickety stand. The man had greasy black hair, a crooked nose, and wide, yellowed teeth.

“Good morning,” the seedy man greeted. “What can I do for you?”

“I need to replace the Avenoxi Tribe,” Cyrus said, cutting out the small talk. The longer things took, the harder it would be to replace Dameon. “What do you know about them?”

The man grinned. “Ah, the Avenoxi, huh?” Obviously he was amused by the mention of the ancient tribe, and he waited for Cyrus to smile with him. But Cyrus stood unmoved, piercing him with resolute eyes. “Oh, you’re serious. I apologize; let me go consult with my benefactor.”

The sleazy man grabbed his keys off the table and disappeared down the cellar steps of a nearby house. Cyrus leaned on the shaky stand, watching the stairs intently.

A man with hair as white as the freshly fallen snow and shifty pale blue eyes shielded by a pair of thin-rimmed spectacles ascended the steps and marched to the stand.

“I understand you’re asking about the Avenoxi.”

“Yes, sir. I’d like to know anything I can about them.”

The merchant sighed. “I’m afraid I won’t be much help in that matter. I enjoy studying ancient civilizations—kind of a hobby of mine—but the Avenoxi are completely shrouded in mystery. No one knows if they still exist, and many question if they ever did.”

“And what do you believe?” Cyrus asked.

The old man smiled. “I have proof they once existed.” Reaching behind the stand, he pulled out an ancient sword and set it on the table. “If you look closely at the blade, you can see the word Wolfbane engraved into the steel. This was the chosen sword of their greatest king.”

Cyrus shook his head. “I’m looking for a way to replace them, not a decrepit old sword.”

“Wait,” Keira interrupted. “I think it could help.” She motioned them out of earshot of the old man and lowered her voice.

“I haven’t mentioned this yet, but I have an . . . interesting ability. I can look into the history of an object, everything that ever happened to it all the way down to where it was first made.”

“Wow,” Raiden said, obviously impressed.

“Will it work with this sword? I mean, to replace where they’re at?” Cyrus asked.

Keira nodded. “I’d need a little time, but I could pinpoint the last location where the Avenoxi held the sword. Assuming this man is telling the truth, of course.”

Cyrus stepped back from the circle and called out to the old man. “Is this sword for sale?”

The shifty old geezer smiled. “Anything’s for sale at the right price.”

“And what would the ‘right price’ be for a decayed sword like this?”

“Two hundred gold coins should do it.”

“That’s ridiculous!” Cyrus gasped. “That’s over a year’s worth of wages on the sea!”

“It’s a steal for an artifact as rare as this!” the old man countered.

“Could we at least hold it for a few minutes?”

“Out of the question. You can hold it once you’ve bought it.”

“Cyrus,” Raiden interrupted, pulling him back into the huddle. “I may have forgotten to tell you—after I heard about the Magistrate kidnapping citizens, I decided to . . . alleviate him of some of his financial burdens.”

Cyrus grinned. “You looted the Magistrate’s personal stash? How much did you haul in?”

“One hundred and sixty gold coins.”

“It’s not enough,” Terra said. “But it’s a start.”

“Oh, it’s enough. Thanks, Raiden, I owe you one,” Cyrus said, patting his friend on the back before returning to the shifty old man.

“It’s your lucky day,” Cyrus said with a smile. “I’ll give you seventy gold coins for the artifact.”

“A hundred and eighty.”

“One hundred,” Cyrus countered.

“One-sixty.”

“A hundred and forty and that’s my final offer.”

“You have yourself a deal, young lad.” The old man reached across the table and offered a firm handshake.

Raiden lay the gold on the table and the vendor handed the sword to Cyrus. Tucking it into his wool coat, he turned to leave the marketplace.

“I’m going to need a quiet room to study its past,” Keira said.

“Well, Lucky’s at our hotel room, so that’s out of the question,” Terra replied.

“How about the church?” Cyrus suggested.

“Sounds good,” Raiden said. “Gideon told us we could use it as long as we needed to.”

“That should work,” Keira said.

As the team walked to the outskirts of town, the snow started to fall in large flakes the size of marbles. Cyrus pulled the collar of his coat up, partially covering his neck and ears from the cold.

Opening the wide double doors to the church, he was met with the smell of a few dozen candles burning softly around the room. Pews lined either side of the aisle and a wooden cross was suspended above the altar.

Keira found a secluded corner to focus her power. Sitting cross-legged on the floor with the sword in her lap, she closed her eyes, placed one hand on the guard, and one hand on the blade.

For nearly twenty minutes she sat there, her face a myriad of expressions. At last she opened her eyes and blinked in rapid succession.

“What happened?” Terra asked.

A wide smile broke across Keira’s face. “You’ll never believe whose sword this was,” she said eagerly. “Rosario’s!”

Keira paused, as if the name should mean something to them. Cyrus finally asked, “Who’s that?”

“I’m sorry,” Keira replied before taking a deep breath. “This was one of the most inspiring objects I’ve looked into. I’ll start from the beginning.”

Keira cleared her throat and spoke in a narrative voice, as if reciting a legend. “Two thousand years ago, before the first human civilization, even before Candore, the two major continents were both ruled by powerful creatures. The continent to the east, which is now referred to as the Unknown Regions was ruled by vampires; the continent to the west, where you come from, Cyrus, was ruled by Lycans, also known as werewolves.

“At that time the werewolves used humans as slave labor to construct buildings and monuments. One of these slaves was a young man named Rosario, whose wife had just given birth to their first daughter. Vowing that his baby girl would grow up in a better world, Rosario forged this sword in the dead of night.

“He gathered a small band of his friends, and over the next few months they stole supplies, gathered resources, and fed the hungry. One fateful day, Rosario and his team fought and overthrew their first outpost of werewolves, freeing the slaves under that region’s control.

“Knowing their freedom would not last for long, Rosario used hit and run tactics against the werewolves, isolating small packs to defeat them. With each victory he freed more slaves, and his numbers swelled. Across the continent his legend grew, and people started to call his sword Wolfbane.

“Eventually news of the rebel uprising reached the king of the werewolves. Outraged, he called his vassals and prepared for war. But he made a fatal mistake—he underestimated the humans.

“Rosario knew that his army was weaker and slower than his adversary’s so he carefully chose the terrain of their first battlefield—a sheer mountain pass in modern day Bergion. The slope on either side was too steep even for the werewolves to climb during battle.

“He armed the bulk of his soldiers with full bodied shields and long spears called pikes, drilling into them the importance of staying in a tight phalanx position. The rest of his men he armed with arrows, stationing them on the highest peaks they could climb before the enemy arrived.

“Once the werewolf army came, their king didn’t even offer the traditional parlay before battle. Overconfident that he could squash the rebellion, he sent his wolves in without a strategy, relying on their raw power alone. The werewolves hit the line but the tight phalanx held the monsters at bay. A few wolves tried to jump over the front line, but the spearmen were ready, running through the enemy ranks.

“Seeing his chance, Rosario ordered the archers to rain down arrows on the stymied werewolves. The battle turned into a massacre. The werewolf king ordered a retreat, but his army suffered heavy losses, and the humans won their first great victory over the monsters.

“Word quickly spread of Rosario’s uprising. The werewolves, spread too thin across the continent, no longer had the numbers to keep their slaves in line. Droves of humans overthrew the monsters to join Rosario and his cause. Over the next few years, Rosario and his army pushed the wolves across the continent until all that was left of their kingdom was one small city on the edge of an eastern peninsula.

“Dozens of Lycans abandoned their king and set sail for the eastern continent, leaving only the ruler himself and his royal bodyguards. Rosario was in dire need of reinforcements, but he knew if the king escaped the continent he would one day return for vengeance. So, battered and wearied, Rosario gathered his troops for one final stand.

“Wolfbane in hand, Rosario led his mightiest and most trusted men headlong into battle. Their force clashed with the royal bodyguard, but Rosario pushed on, leaving them to his men as he sought the Lycan king.

“He found his greatest enemy on the dock, about to board one of the fleeing ships. ‘Werewolf!’ he shouted. ‘Are you such a coward that you run from a lone human? Let us settle this once and for all.’

“The Lycan king snarled and transformed into his dark red wolf state—the rarest and most powerful of Lycan forms. The two mighty warriors clashed, trading blow for blow. No one man had ever stood toe-to-toe with a Lycan, let alone a Lycan king. But Rosario fought like a man possessed. He fought for his men; he fought for the rebellion; but most importantly, he fought so that his daughter would never know a world of fear and slavery like he did.

“After a long climactic duel, the werewolf king tore a deep gash in Rosario’s side, knocking him onto his back. The werewolf king pounced, only to be skewered by this very blade,” Keira said, holding the sword out before her. “Rosario ran him through with Wolfbane, ending the tyranny of the Lycans.”

“Wow . . .” Cyrus said, awed by the story. “That was incredible.”

“What happened to Rosario?” Terra asked.

“The reinforcements arrived, along with Rosario’s family,” Keira continued. “His wife and daughter came to his side, and he kissed them both, saying ‘Everything . . . all of this . . . was worth it for your freedom.’ Then he prayed one last prayer and passed from the loss of blood.

“As for the Lycans, they sailed to the continent we now call the Unknown Regions, encroaching on the vampire’s territory. That’s why, to this day, the bitter war between werewolves and vampires still rages.

“Wolfbane was given to Rosario’s daughter and passed through the generations. The men and women who stayed close to Rosario’s family ultimately became the Avenoxi tribe. More importantly, Wolfbane was with one of Rosario’s descendants when the tribe disappeared into the forest. What really happened was that the Avenoxi built a hidden city, surrounded by impassible mountains on all sides. The only entrance is through a secret tunnel.” She paused, then added, “Or flying, I suppose.”

Cyrus’s eyes lit up. “Can you guide us to the hidden city?”

“I think so,” Keira answered. “This sword was accidentally sold to an outsider ten years ago. I’m sure the land has changed a bit, but I can get us to the general area.”

Cyrus smiled. “Excellent. Let’s replace the others and set out.”

Cyrus ducked beneath a low hanging branch, his boots snapping fallen twigs as he walked. The smells of damp earth, pine, and pollen filled the air, and he took a deep, savoring breath. With T’Saunté’s wing still recovering, they couldn’t risk flying, so they had traveled on foot for a day and a half now. Keira was leading the hike with surprising quickness through the thick underbrush of the forest. Cyrus had spent most of the trip sharing life stories with Raiden, but now he hung back at the tail of the party, reflecting on everything that had happened.

“Cyrus,” Terra said softly, falling back beside him.

Cyrus smiled. “Yes?”

“I have something to ask you, and I need you to be completely honest.”

“No, those pants don’t make you look fat,” he said with a wink.

“Obviously,” Terra said, eyes twinkling, “I mean, as you can clearly see, I’ve got it going on. But I’m afraid my question is a little more serious than that.”

“What’s on your mind?”

Terra paused before asking. “Do you ever think I’m going too far with my power? Pushing people’s minds past what I should?”

Cyrus thought for a moment, reflecting on his near-death experiences with the Bloody Bones, the Governor’s soldiers, and the butcher. “No, I don’t think so. You’ve only used your telepathy on those trying to kill us.”

“See, that’s the hard part,” Terra said, lowering her voice. Whatever she was about to say, she wanted to make sure only Cyrus heard it. “The minds I’ve invaded have been . . . terrifying—especially the butcher’s. It’s getting harder to keep track of myself.”

Cyrus stopped in his tracks and looked at her, a concerned expression on his face. “Are you saying you lose a piece of yourself every time you use your telepathy?”

She shook her head. “Not exactly. I’m still the same ol’ Terra. But when I’m inside a mind as twisted and corrupt as the butcher’s, I see the full extent of their evil and it makes me want to stop them—at all costs. It’s times like that when it’s hard to determine where the line is between mercy . . . and justice.”

Cyrus looked at her and smiled. “Honestly I think you’ve done an excellent job so far. You’ve kept your morals in spite of everything we’ve faced. But, Terra, if there’s ever a time you feel unsure that what you’re doing is right, then don’t go there.” Cyrus brushed a black lock of hair out of her eyes. “You’re too important to me.”

Terra’s cheeks turned slightly red. “Thank you,” she murmured.

Reaching out, she took his hand in her own. Cyrus felt his heart flutter. She put something in his hand and then closed it.

“Sometimes my thoughts still scare me,” she continued. “So if you ever feel like I’ve gone too far with my powers, or it seems like I’ve lost control, please give this back to me. It’ll serve as an instant reminder of this conversation.”

Cyrus opened his hand to see what she had given him. It was a beautiful golden flower with four long petals that bowed to a point.

“I don’t think I’ve ever gotten flowers from a girl before,” Cyrus said with a half-smile.

“I’m glad I’m the first,” Terra teased. A ray of light beamed through the trees, illuminating her gorgeous emerald eyes. A warm smile stretched across her lips.

She really is breathtaking . . .

Cyrus smiled. “I’m glad we’re in this together, Princess.”

“Me, too. But there’s one more thing I should tell you. My family doesn’t know about my telepathic powers, and it needs to stay that way.”

Cyrus was surprised. “You mean you’ve kept it hidden from your father and all your siblings?”

“Yes. My grandmother, Jalinth, won her own war with those same powers. Which means we can’t let Dameon or his men replace out.”

“I understand. And thank you for trusting me with this.”

“Hey, you two!” Lucky’s voice called through the trees. Cyrus looked up the hill and saw the group was a good hundred feet in front of them at the top of a ridge. “Do you need me to come save you?”

“No, Lucky, we’re all right. Thanks,” Cyrus yelled. He looked back at Terra.

“We’d better catch up with the others,” she said, her cheeks still flushed.

“Yeah, we’d better.”

Terra jogged up the path, but Cyrus hung back. Carefully folding each of the four petals, he placed the golden flower in his pocket before treading up the hill.