The War of the Masters
Chapter Fourteen

A cold shiver trailed down Keira’s spine. She had seen the nameless butcher brutally torturing the other prisoners. Sometimes he used his meat cleaver. Sometimes he used other, duller instruments to make the pain last longer.

Gritting her teeth, Keira transformed her fear into rage, using the memories of his atrocities as fuel to the fire. She possessed a special power not common to her people. But the ability to look into an object’s past wouldn’t help her in this fight. Still at the base of the stairs, she looked around the corridor for anything she could use as a weapon. Her eyes came across a decorative kite shield on the wall only a few yards from where she stood.

Better than nothing.

Keira plucked the silver shield from the wall and fitted it around her right arm, then raced back to the stairs. The boys were alternating strikes against the butcher, one darting in for an attack, then withdrawing so the other could do the same. The tiny Leprechaun—barely even noticeable—had sat down on the stair just below the butcher’s, panting hard from his long climb.

Keira took two strides up the stairs, shield at the ready. Cyrus threw a wild swipe at the butcher’s right shoulder, missing only by a few inches. Seeing his chance, the grotesque man grinned wickedly and swung his cleaver hard. The sheer force was too much for Cyrus to block. The young man leapt back to avoid the fatal swipe and fell, right into Keira.

The pair crashed down the stone stairs and slammed against the far wall of the perpendicular corridor.

Cyrus sat up, groaned, and pressed his hand against his bleeding head. “If only I could get behind him somehow,” he muttered.

Keira rose to her feet, barely winded from their fall. “I think I can help with that.”

Terra stretched out with her consciousness, probing until she locked on to the butcher’s mind. Knowing the temptations that came with her psychic powers, she had scarcely used them; it still required a good eight to ten seconds of intense concentration to unleash her abilities—which, in a fight, was almost an eternity.

Just a little more . . . there!

Her conscious self entered into the mind of the butcher. As she had done with the Bloody Bones, she prepared to loose a cacophonous shriek within his head—the perfect distraction for the others. But the moment she delved into the butcher’s psyche her demeanor changed.

Voices were already shouting and screaming within his mind.

Murderous thoughts hounded her projected form, urging—no, pleading for her to kill. Terra realized at once she was not the assailant but the victim from the mental bond she had formed. A scream escaped her lips but was drowned out by the maddening collage of voices. Demons seemed to emerge from the recesses of the butcher’s soul, fighting to enter her mind through the link she had established. Dark whispers floated past her. Some were threats. Some were cries of anguish. Still others were mad howls of laughter.

She vaguely heard a voice calling out to her, different from the others, and somehow familiar. She couldn’t make out what was said, but she could hear the direction it was coming from.

With monumental effort Terra forced her way through the phalanx of demons attacking her, and severed the mental bond with a scream of her own.

Lucky had never worked so hard in his life! The stress of each pull up, hauling his weight up and over every single stair was enough to exhaust anyone. Other Leprechauns would have given up long ago, but not him. He was a champion. And though he needed a moment to recuperate—as any athlete would—he knew the responsibility fell on his shoulders to slay the portly giant above him.

All right! Let’s do it to it!

Lucky climbed over the final colossal stair, now on the same level as the enormous monster. The Leprechaun contemplated his next move; he still had the Twig of Doom he’d used to single-handedly defeat an elite soldier back in Evidria, but even its mighty power might not be enough for the giant. Then an old Leprechaun saying sprang to mind: The fatter they are, the harder they collapse.

This man looked to be pretty fat—ergo his collapse should be deadly! Armed with a plan, Lucky sprinted so quickly it would make any female Leprechaun swoon, until he reached the gigantic boots of his adversary. His nimble hands flew over the strings, untying them in a flash. Then he hauled one of the shoelaces over his shoulder and ran towards the opposite boot.

Whoo! This thing’s heavy!

A sharp chorus of metal strikes reverberated through the air. Kendal was playing his role well as a sufficient distraction for Lucky to accomplish their primary mission. Another loud clash caused the little Leprechaun to glance up. The giant’s pants were sagging down his backside, and Lucky saw the biggest, widest full moon he’d ever seen in his life. The sight was so massive he actually stopped to take a longer look.

My word! Twelve Leprechaun families could live in there!

After a moment he shook his head. Cyrus and the others were counting on him to slay the monster. Onward!

Cyrus could feel his every heartbeat like a painful surge flaring against his temples. He had very nearly been killed—a feeling he was sure he’d never grow used to. The narrow confines of the stairwell made it too hard to maneuver, but with the butcher blocking the only path, what choice did they have?

“If only I could get behind him somehow,” he muttered to himself.

The elf, Keira, replied, “I think I can help with that.”

Curious, Cyrus looked at her for further explanation but she only offered him a hand up. He took it and rose to his feet just as Terra let out a bloodcurdling scream. Normally he would have been at her side in a flash, but he couldn’t just leave his father to fight the psychotic butcher alone.

There was a second of indecision as he felt both sides tugging at his core, silently begging him for help. Then he heard his father’s familiar voice in his mind, telling him what to do.

Go help Terra! I can take care of myself, it said.

Cyrus was sure he had only imagined it, but he knew it was the right decision. In an instant he was beside Terra, checking her for injuries, but nothing seemed to have struck her. The Princess threw her hands over her eyes and sank to her knees.

“Terra!” he screamed. “Snap out of this! Come back to me!”

It didn’t look as though she’d heard him, but a moment later her eyes blinked in rapid succession. Terra screamed again and collapsed to her side.

“Terra!”

Cyrus checked her pulse. Her heartbeat was elevated. Her hair was matted in a thin layer of perspiration. Terra’s eyes opened slowly, cautiously, and Cyrus breathed a sigh of relief.

“I’m fine,” she whispered. “Don’t worry about me; help your dad.”

Cyrus opened his mouth to protest but the defiant look in Terra’s eyes convinced him otherwise. He turned to Keira and tightened his grip on his sword.

“What’s your plan?”

“Get as close to the butcher as you can. From there I’ll boost you over.”

“What? How?”

“Go!” Keira yelled. He pounced up the stairs toward his enemy. Kendal had scored a gash across the butcher’s massive belly, but as Cyrus approached the cleaver nicked his father’s shoulder, drawing a spurt of blood. Kendal grunted and fell back a step.

Rather than press his advantage, however, the butcher smacked his own chest with his open palm and roared a deep, bellowing laugh that sounded to Cyrus like a taunt. The young warrior drew close and slashed his steel blade at the butcher’s chest. The heavy man redirected the blade with his own, changing the angle so the attack just missed his target. He grinned again.

Keira appeared at his side and hunkered down with her shield braced over her body.

Here’s my chance!

Cyrus took a single step and jumped. The instant his foot landed on the shield, Keira vaulted him into the air with a mighty heave. Cyrus twisted in mid-air so that his body was parallel with the floor, giving him just enough height to clear the butcher’s head. He landed on one knee and thrust his sword behind him, stabbing the butcher in the back.

The bloody man roared in pain and twisted around to face his assailant. But as he turned, the butcher lost his balance and plummeted down the stairs with thundering speed. Kendal and Keira narrowly jumped out of the way, but as Terra dove clear her foot got caught in the butcher’s plunge. Terra cried out as the heavy man smashed into the wall of the adjacent corridor.

Oh, no . . .

Cyrus’s throat felt hot and sticky, his lungs refusing to take in another breath as he looked upon Terra’s crumpled form.

Cyrus raced down the stairs, barely managing to avoid stepping on Lucky. His father and Keira beat him there, tending to Terra’s wound as he arrived beside them.

“I’m all right,” Terra said through clenched teeth. “Just a sprained ankle.”

For the second time that minute Cyrus felt an intense relief flood through him. He hadn’t realized till now just how much the thought of losing Terra could shatter him. Closing his eyes, he willed the notion away. He refused to even think it.

Keira moved over to the butcher and slammed the edge of her shield into his back. No response came. Inching closer, she peeked at his head, then pulled away quickly.

“Is he . . . .” Kendal let the question trail off.

“Yes. His neck broke in the fall.”

“Keira, check his pockets,” Cyrus said. “He might have the key—”

His words were cut off by the triumphant cheers of Lucky as he hopped down each individual stair.

“Yes! Yes! Did you see that? Woo-hoo! I am Lucky, Slayer of Giants! Elite warrior of justice! Cyrus’s protector!” he bellowed.

“Lucky, be quiet!” Cyrus hissed. How many times do I have to tell that Leprechaun this is a covert operation?

“Oh, right. Sorry,” Lucky said a little quieter, but the grin encompassing his entire face never left.

“Did you do something to the butcher?” Kendal asked, tearing off a piece of his blue uniform to stanch the blood on his shoulder.

“Well, yeah!” The Leprechaun seemed offended by the question. “Take a look at his boots!”

Cyrus looked at the dead butcher and noticed his shoelaces were tied together.

“You mean . . .”

“Yep! When he turned to face you, I caused him to fall! Bringing forth another epic victory for our team!”

Cyrus could only chuckle in disbelief. Lucky’s confidence and outspoken nature had probably just been magnified five times.

“Oof! Hey, help me out over here, will ya?” said Keira, unable to roll the obese butcher over by herself. Kendal moved to aid her, and the two of them barely managed to flip the butcher onto his back. Keira threw the bloody apron out of the way and found a ring of keys hanging from his pocket.

“Great!” Cyrus said. “All right, head back to the dungeon and free as many of the prisoners as you can. You’ll have to go out the main doors, though, so be careful.”

“Got it. Where do you want me to take everyone? It’s too cold to just leave them outside.”

“Head to the church in Cordova. We’ll meet you there once we’re done in the castle.”

Keira nodded and set out.

Taking Kendal’s hand, Terra rose to her feet and said, “Hopefully no one will come through this hall for a while; we can’t exactly move this body out of the way.”

“We’ll be discovered eventually,” Cyrus said. “We just want to be far away when it happens.”

“So, where to now, son? Did the couple give you any more of the layout?” Kendal asked.

Cyrus put Lucky back in his pocket and gestured toward the stairs. “No, but the butcher was pretty determined to block this route. Let’s see what he was hiding.”

At the top of the stairwell Cyrus came to a slightly ajar door with the words Keep Out carved into the wooden frame. He pushed it open with a noisy creak. The chamber within was dark, lit by a single sputtering torch. Beakers bubbled with grayish-bronze liquids, and sketches were mottled across the desks. The entire room smelled powerfully of oil and charred meat. Sᴇaʀ*ᴄh the FɪndNovᴇl.nᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

What were they doing here? Cyrus thought as they walked to the far side of the chamber.

“Oh my word . . .” Terra gasped, her hand covering her mouth as she saw what lay within.

Sickly mutated humans had been placed in glass tanks on either side of the room. Their skin had been turned a dark, oily brown. Gangly cysts bulged out of the skin on their necks, shoulders, and arms. Their mouths were elongated as if frozen in a never-ending scream.

All of the subjects were dead.

Cyrus looked them over, one by one. Then he saw something that made his blood run cold.

One of the dead mutants wore a silver pendant around his neck.

Cyrus blinked, momentarily overcome by the shock of what he was looking at. His throat felt clogged, and his body began to quiver.

“No . . . please, no.”

Tears of grief and rage formed in Cyrus’s eyes, and his mind flashed back to the image of this boy’s parents.

I promised them I’d return their son . . .

Cyrus’s head dropped. His eyes closed, and his hands balled into fists at his sides.

“Cyrus, what’s wrong?” Terra asked, noticing the change.

He couldn’t look at her. He couldn’t tell her what was wrong. He just had to get out of this place.

And find the one responsible.

Without a word, Cyrus smashed the glass tube with his sword, startling the others. He yanked the pendant off Dustin’s neck.

“We’re leaving,” he said in a tone much harsher than he’d intended. “Now.”

The rain came down in cold relentless sheets, forcing involuntary shudders through Raiden’s spine. Five guards, attracted by his diversion, were gathered around the east side of the castle, looking for clues as to the source of the disturbance. Raiden knelt down beside them, occasionally running his finger through the mud. Every so often he trailed into a slow murmur, “Hmmm.”

Raiden smiled. It seemed like a ridiculous ruse, but it had kept the guards stupidly searching this spot for the past five minutes.

“C’mon, there’s nothing here,” one of the younger soldiers finally grumbled.

An older guard glared at him sternly. “Do you want to be the one who explains that to the Magistrate and General Dameon when they ask what happened?”

The man swallowed loudly, audible even over the pounding of the rain.

“That’s what I thought. Now make yourself useful and search over there.”

“I’m heading back to my rounds,” said the stoic soldier Raiden first encountered. “While you play detective over here, no one’s watching the front gate.”

“I’ll go with him,” Raiden chimed in, “just in case.”

The older guard shrugged. “I ain’t your father. Do whatever you want.”

Hopefully that was long enough for Cyrus and the others to sneak in, Raiden thought. If all goes well, they’ll be in and out before anyone’s the wiser.

Raiden moved a few paces ahead of the other guard as they marched back toward the main gate.

“So, what do you think happened?” he asked curiously.

“I don’t,” was the curt response.

You must have had a really boring childhood, Raiden thought with a smile and a shake of his head.

Rounding the corner, he froze at the sight of a stunning woman with auburn hair escorting a group of half-starved prisoners out the main entrance. She stopped cold when she saw Raiden, obviously afraid that they had been caught. Raiden gave her a confident nod, trying his best to mask the wellspring of panic rising within his chest; the other guard was just a few steps behind him.

Reacting instinctively, he jabbed an index finger away from the main gate toward a small copse of trees, and said in a shaky voice, “What’s that?”

The instant the guard turned his gaze, Raiden formed a coin-sized disc of energy and flicked it into the trees. The taciturn soldier saw the dark purple blade of energy slash through a miniature branch in its diagonal descent. Expectantly, he turned and gazed up at the roof where the trajectory seemed to have come from.

“Up there!” he said, pointing through the rain. The same twinge of fright had returned in his voice.

Raiden couldn’t tell if he’d actually seen anything, but it didn’t matter to him regardless. “Go get the others!” he ordered. “I’ll find a way up to the roof!”

The soldier did as he was told, giving Raiden a chance to peer around the corner again. What looked to be the last of the prisoners were fleeing down the mountain. The young woman with the shield caught his gaze. He gave a quick thumbs up to ease her worries. She nodded, perhaps a sort of thank you, and vanished into the night with her entourage.

Terra, Kendal, Lucky, and Cyrus crept silently through the black stone castle, listening to the steady patter of rain against the walls and roof. Terra had never seen Cyrus so distraught before. Something about the laboratory had rattled him more than the others, but she wasn’t sure what.

Did he know the boy in the vat?

Her question vanished as the stench of fresh oil hit her nostrils, much stronger than it had at the lab. Kendal must have noticed it, too; he sniffed the air a few times before wrinkling his nose in disgust. But Cyrus neither stopped nor slowed as he led the team through the next iron door.

The remnants of an interior stone bridge lay before them. Several thin cracks shot out from a wide, uneven gap in the bridge’s center.

“Watch your step,” Cyrus said unnecessarily, his tone carrying none of the dry humor it usually did.

Terra ran a hand across the bridge’s railing as she walked, taking slow, measured steps over the damaged stone. When she reached the hole in the center she peered down into the chasm, and a gasp forced its way from her throat.

Below them was a sea of the same mutated people they’d seen in the laboratory.

Only these were still alive.

Terra clasped a hand over her mouth, stifling a scream. The strong stench of oil was definitely emanating from these . . . things. Seemingly unaware of their presence, the creatures lolled forward in no particular direction. Their sluggish gaits and deep-chested moans reminded her of the bestial nature of the Bloody Bones they’d encountered on the floating islands. These people had been reduced to mindless slaves.

The same thing my family does with the Breath of the Masters. The same thing I could do . . . A shiver ran down her back, and Terra pushed away the thought.

A thin wooden plank had been set across the gap, but it didn’t look strong enough to support their weight. Worse, the gap was too large to jump across . . . but it looked as though it could be done, if need be.

“Now what?” Kendal asked, voicing the question they were all thinking.

Cyrus didn’t answer. Instead, he set Lucky down beside the wooden board.

“Lucky,” he said, “we need you to go across first.”

“Me?” the Leprechaun replied a bit nervously as he looked over the flimsy plank.

Cyrus nodded. “We need a brave and mighty warrior to defend us in case someone comes through that next door.”

“Well,” Lucky said, puffing out his chest a bit, “I guess I can lead the charge for you.”

The little Leprechaun casually put one foot on the board. Then two. Gaining some confidence, he sauntered to the center of the plank and gave a short hop, testing its strength. The board bounced up and down in response. Lucky jumped higher, using the board like a spring to somersault through the air and neatly over to the other side of the stone bridge. Terra was impressed with his agility.

“That’s not good,” Kendal muttered. “If it can barely hold Lucky it’ll never support us. Is there something we could latch the grappling hook onto?”

Terra gazed around the dark chamber but saw nothing that would work.

“I have an idea,” Cyrus said, kneeling beside the plank. He placed his left hand against the board, and the wood seemed to solidify.

“Quick! Go across!” he murmured in a strained voice.

Trusting his powers, Terra and Kendal ran across the hardened board, then turned back to face him.

“But how are you going to get across?” Terra asked.

Cyrus retrieved the grappling hook from the sheath at his back and threw one end to his father. Kendal caught the metal hook with both hands, and Cyrus tied the rope around his waist. Terra took hold of the rope, ready to pull as he peered over the side at the mutated husks.

Shouldn’t have done that, Terra thought. Cyrus seemed to have a fear of heights, and the image of what lay below him would only raise doubt in his mind.

“You can do this, Cyrus,” she said confidently. “We’ve got you.”

Cyrus moved the plank out of the way and rubbed his hands together as if to calm his nerves.

Then he jumped.

His leap brought him just short of the broken stone ledge, and Terra saw a look of unbridled terror on his face—and probably on her own—as he fell.

She felt a sharp tug as the rope when taut, pulling her off balance. In unison, she and Kendal took a step to steady themselves, then they yanked on the rope, keeping Cyrus from plummeting into the sea of mutated creatures below. Together they pulled him up, and Cyrus collapsed on the floor, trembling.

“I’m fine,” he said, putting his hand up. “Just . . . need a second to catch my breath is all.”

Terra swallowed, listening to the rain pounding against the castle. With every moment they were here, things seemed to worsen. And if the Magistrate managed to capture them, they could expect a similar fate to the mutants in the chasm.

Terra shuddered. The sooner we’re out of here, the better. I just hope Jalinth and Kendal’s friend are all right . . .

“Let’s go,” Kendal said, leading the way instead of Cyrus. The next door opened into a curving corridor with three branching paths. Shadows from torches danced across the different waypoints, beckoning them further into the castle. None of them knew the structure’s layout so they simply picked one at random. Statues and gargoyles adorned the next hallway, and Terra had the feeling they were getting close.

Suddenly they heard a woman’s voice crying out for help. All three of them stopped and looked at one another as though deciding what to do. Together they ran toward the voice, following it until they reached a large dining hall decorated with an assortment of silver plates and golden chalices. Two muscle-bound thugs were dragging a crying woman away as she screamed in protest.

“Hey!” Cyrus yelled, his voice dripping with venom.

The two soldiers stopped at once, letting go of the woman as they assessed the three intruders. Four if they could see Lucky peering out from Cyrus’s pocket.

“What is this? Intruders?” one of the men asked as they crossed around the rectangular dining table toward them.

“This is your chance: Get out of the castle now if you want to live,” Cyrus threatened, his tone so intimidating Terra almost recoiled herself.

Both guards laughed. Then they drew their swords simultaneously. Kendal drew his in response but Cyrus didn’t budge. His eyes were like narrow slits boring into the two men before him.

“Hmm. I don’t think so,” the first soldier said while his companion gave a sharp whistle. Three black dogs with glowing yellow eyes rushed into the room, interposing themselves between their masters and the intruders.

“Hellhounds,” Terra gasped aloud.

She had never seen one of the powerfully fast, fire-based monsters in person, but she knew their reputation well.

If she, Cyrus, Kendal, and Lucky tried to fight the beasts, they would surely die in this room.

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