The War of the Masters
Chapter Twenty-Eight

Cyrus spun around and lashed out with his sword just as Dameon disappeared like a puff of smoke. The imprint of his hand on Terra’s head lingered an extra fraction of a second, then vanished as well.

“Terra! Terra, are you all right?”

The Princess was shaking from head to toe. Her emerald eyes turned to Cyrus and she held out both arms. Cyrus wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close in a comforting embrace.

“It’s okay,” he whispered. “Everything’s going to be fine. We’ll get through this.”

“Cyrus,” Niadus said softly. “We better not stay in one place too long.”

Cyrus knew he was right, but Terra was still obviously distressed. Without a word he simply held her in his arms.

“I think I’m okay,” she said at last.

Cyrus looked into her eyes. “Are you sure?”

The Princess nodded.

Cyrus let go of her and went to sheathe his sword when he saw a drop of blood roll off the tip of his blade and onto the ground.

So I did actually hit something. It’s not all just an illusion.

“We’ve got two more doors in front of us,” Niadus said. “One on the right, and one on the left.”

“I say we go left this time,” Keira insisted.

“Left it is.”

Once more they resumed their back-to-back formation, with Cyrus in the lead. He wrapped his hand around the rusty knob and opened up the left door. This time he wasn’t surprised to see the identical room before him. The pillars, the fireplace—all of it. Even the portrait of Dameon and Laurel was hanging on the wall, unblemished.

Cyrus gritted his teeth. I’m so sick of this room!

“Everyone keep up, we’re going through this chamber quickly,” he announced. “I want—”

He stopped. The music was louder here. It hit him like the rising tide—constantly calling to him, begging him. They were drawing closer to the source the deeper they went into the ship.

Just keep going. Every time you stop, someone gets hurt.

Setting a brisk pace, Cyrus unconsciously shifted his grip on the ivory handle of his sword. The ship was getting to him. He heard Terra’s voice as they reached the fireplace.

“Isn’t that Dameon’s picture? I wonder what he’s doing on this ship.” Her voice was light and curious, as if she were talking about the weather.

Cyrus stopped, but only for a moment. “Let’s go,” he ordered. He wanted to get out of this place as quickly as he could.

Choosing the door on the right, he barged through, the others right behind him.

Please, don’t let it be the same.

It wasn’t. The room was smaller than the others, bare save for the two people at the far end of the chamber, both sitting against the wall. One was a young girl, playing the rapturous song on a golden flute. She looked to be about eight years old, with curly blond hair. The other was a man he didn’t recognize; a simple sailor who bore no resemblance to Dameon.

As soon as Laurel saw them she dropped her flute. Her eyes went wide with fright and her hands shook. The man stood up, reached over to the girl, and covered her mouth with a wet cloth. The girl’s muscles went slack, her head lolling forward. Niadus flew across the room as the sailor raised his arms into the air.

“I give u—” Niadus grabbed him by the throat, cutting off the rest of his sentence.

“Wait!” Cyrus said, removing his ear plugs. “He’s got information we need.”

Cyrus could see the rage filling Niadus’s eyes, but he reluctantly loosened his hold on the man’s neck.

“What did you just do to her?” Cyrus asked, his voice low and threatening.

“It’s a knockout drug,” the sailor said in a fearful voice. “Dameon told me to give it to her the moment someone came in, or if she tried anything shady.”

“So you work for Dameon, then?”

The man looked from Cyrus to Niadus and back. “Yes.”

“Where is he?”

“I don’t know. The master said something about moving to another ship.”

Cyrus felt his blood turn to ice.

It was all a setup.

Niadus’s rage boiled over. His fist lashed out, striking the man on the jaw and knocking him out cold. Silently he knelt down and scooped up his daughter, holding her tightly to his chest for a long moment before turning back to the group. A determined look shone in his eyes.

“Back to the Faithful.”

Lightning tore across the sky, accompanied by a simultaneous blast of thunder. Sprinting as fast as they could, Cyrus and the others reached the deck in under a minute. The fog was receding, but the rain poured down harder than ever.

Please let them be okay, Cyrus thought, his footsteps pounding across the charcoal deck. Reaching the grappling hook connecting the two vessels, he, Niadus, Keira, and Terra all stopped.

Dameon was aboard their ship.

The gaunt man was standing beside his friends and family, and all of them looked happy to see him. Madrina held her hand over his chest and a thin gash—most likely from Cyrus’s sword—slowly closed over.

“Cousin,” Dameon called out to Cyrus in a serpentine voice, “I’ve been looking all over for you.”

Cyrus watched as Dameon put his arms around his parents’ shoulders, a storm of fury growing inside him.

If you do anything to them, I’ll kill you.

“Step away from them,” Cyrus said in an icy voice.

A mock-hurt expression crossed Dameon’s face. “Now, is that any way to treat your cousin?”

“You’re not my cousin.”

“Cyrus, what’s gotten into you?” his mother asked. “Apologize to Dameon right now.”

Kendal shook his head. “Never turn your back on family, son.”

A sly smile formed on Dameon’s lips. “I can’t believe you’ve forgotten me after all these years.”

“Don’t listen to him!” Cyrus yelled. “He’s not my cousin! I’ve never even seen him before today!”

Terra took a step forward. “Dameon’s been with us since the very beginning,” she protested.

“You two have always been friends,” Keira agreed.

The cold rain soaked Cyrus to the bone. He looked over the expressions of his friends and family. They all appeared confused and hurt by his actions.

Cyrus had never felt so alone.

“Niadus, what’s happening?” he asked, turning to the one man who still believed Dameon was the enemy.

“I think I know,” he said quietly, placing his daughter gently on the deck. “Do you remember the name of Dameon’s ship? It’s called the New Chapter. Maybe he has the power to implant false memories into someone by touching their head—therefore creating a ‘new chapter’ in their lives.”

“That would explain why you and I are the only ones unaffected,” Cyrus muttered. “It would also explain why Ra’Nu’s father trusted him so completely.” He felt another surge of anger rise through him, but he didn’t let it show on his face. A new plan formed in his mind.

“You’re right, Dameon,” he said with an easy smile. “I’m sorry I forgot about you. Why don’t you come here and give your cousin a hug?”

A snake-like smile twisted across Dameon’s face. “Of course, Cus’.”

As he climbed the rope to the massive ship, Cyrus gathered his energy into his left hand.

Dameon’s power probably requires a great deal of concentration to maintain. If I can flood his senses with pain, it might just break the spell he has over the others.

The pale man reached the ship’s ledge and pulled himself onto the deck. Slowly he advanced toward Cyrus with his arms held wide, that crooked grin still plastered across his face. Cyrus gave a lighthearted smile of his own and moved to meet him.

Here’s my chance.

The instant he was in range, Cyrus lunged with his left hand. Dameon moved like a blur, snatching Cyrus’s wrist and holding it away from his body. Cyrus was so startled he didn’t even react. Speed had always been one of his greatest attributes, but this man was much, much faster. Dameon simply laughed as he tried to squirm free.

Then he reached out a hand of his own.

Just before his palm could clamp down over Cyrus’s head, Niadus shoved him out of the way, and Dameon seized his skull instead.

Niadus staggered free and shook his head as though trying to fight off the effects. Then he stopped.

And looked at Dameon like a brother.

No . . . this can’t be . . . Cyrus thought desperately.

“Niadus, stay with me! Remember who the real enemy is!”

“Don’t worry. I’m still with you, Cyrus.”

Dameon grinned sadistically. “You’re all alone now.”

A voice shouted from the Faithful. “Not quite.”

Thunder rippled through the air. Cyrus, Dameon, and Niadus all looked at the Faithful to see Raiden standing in the crow’s nest, level to their plain of sight. The torrential winds blew his cloak around him like a cyclone, revealing bloodied bandages clinging to his midsection. A bow of sizzling purple energy crackled in his hands. He drew back an arrow and fired.

Time seemed to slow to a crawl. The shimmering projectile hissed and popped as it soared through the rain. Cyrus saw the terrified expression on Dameon’s face, and the resolute look in Raiden’s eyes.

The arrow struck Niadus’s shoulder.

He missed, Cyrus thought, his heart sinking.

Niadus fell to the floor, slack-jawed, clutching his wounded shoulder. Then he stood and began to laugh.

“I knew I should have cut off your head when I had the chance,” Niadus yelled at Raiden.

“He was the one who attacked me in the fog,” Raiden verified. “When I ran after Dameon, Niadus was right behind me. Dameon teleported around me, placed his hand on Niadus’s head to remove the false memories, then the merman slashed his blade across my chest.

“He’s been working with Dameon all along.”

Dameon laughed. “Well done, Raiden. You figured it out. You see, we work for Lozarrik. When you were at the inn at Cordova, a hidden creature saw that you possess a Luduan and reported this to our master.

“I implanted false memories into Niadus so that he believed he really was telling the truth. The Luduan didn’t know better, and you felt safe enough to trust him.”

Cyrus’s blood felt like it was about to boil. “Then, Laurel isn’t Niadus’s daughter, is she?”

A wicked smile played on Niadus’s lips. “Of course not. Her real father is a councilor in the underwater cities. She was nothing but bait to lure you into this trap.” Niadus paused a moment to let his words sink in. “When I killed the bodyguard protecting her I stole his ability to turn into a merman for myself, because that is my unique power: If my blade deals the fatal blow, I can steal the abilities of my fallen prey.”

“So, you tried to kill Raiden first to harvest his power before coming after mine,” Cyrus surmised.

“Bingo. Then we picked off all of your allies, one by one, so you would be helpless to stop us.”

“I don’t do helpless,” Cyrus said through clenched teeth.

Niadus laughed again and unsheathed his black scimitar. “You think you can beat me, boy? Don’t forget—Lozarrik has studied you from afar. We know you don’t have much experience in combat.”

Cyrus put his hand around the ivory handle of the Savior’s Blade and drew it from the scabbard at his back. Holding the sword out in front of him, he said in a low, threatening tone: “No. But I’m adaptable.”

Dameon cackled. “You’ll fight more than just Niadus. All of your friends and family have new memories—ones where you’ve tried to kill your own cousin. They may just try to stop you.” He chuckled. “Accept your death—you’ve been beaten.”

Cyrus nodded toward Raiden. “We’re still breathing. Until that changes, you haven’t won.”

Niadus shook his head. “If you think—”

The merman stopped. His eyes went wide. Cyrus turned to see the young girl, Laurel, putting the flute to her mouth.

“No! She can’t be awake yet!” he screamed. “Quick, don’t let her play the flute!”

Cyrus saw Dameon vanish in a puff of smoke, but the girl had already begun the tantalizing song. The gray fog thickened and closed over Cyrus like a gigantic cape. He tried to resist, but there was nothing he could do. The world around him started to bend and warp.