The War of the Masters

Terra’s nerves were on fire. She had heard roars like that a hundred times; not a cry of pain or fear, but a call to arms. One of the Wild Dragons had spotted something.

But was it us? Or the Dragon Riders?

A second howl suddenly broke through the night. All eyes turned to see a black dragon—one of the Wilds—perched atop the island closest to Candore. The creature arched back its wings and roared, a dark silhouette centered in front of the full moon’s glow.

Entrenched within the lush forest, Terra gasped as the Dragon Riders broke through the cloud line. Unlike T’Saunté, they had approached none too subtly. Orders were barked from the older Riders. Candore’s dragons swiftly formed into a tight phalanx, ready to engage their oncoming enemies.

No one from Candore had been to the floating islands in decades—at least, none that returned to tell the tale. Rumors had circulated of the unbeatable prowess of the mighty Wild Dragons, but even if the stories were true, she knew it would be hard pressed for the untamed creatures to battle thirty experienced Dragon Riders. If her father’s dragon was with them, the Wild Dragons’ fate would almost be assured.

If a fight did break out, Terra knew their only salvation would be to flee while the two forces were preoccupied. T’Saunté was powerful—incredibly strong for his young age—but he was still inexperienced. She knew one day he would be able to battle on a level playing field with almost any other dragon—perhaps even the King’s—but for now it was crucial that he avoid a conflict he had no hope of winning.

This is it, Terra thought with a grimace. As soon as the battle starts, we’ll have to make a break for it. If the Riders overwhelm the Wild Dragons, they’ll come for us next, and we’ll be powerless to stop them.

Terra looked over at Cyrus. A worried expression was plastered across his face. From his words and mannerisms, she guessed he had never seen a dragon or any other “mythical” creature before today. A pang of guilt welled up inside her for dragging him into this mess, and unknowingly condemning him to a lifetime bound at her side, lest he die without the Breath of the Masters. She wanted to apologize again. If only she had known what her father planned for him—she would never have agreed to bring him in the first place.

Terra shook her head. Now wasn’t the time for regrets. They had to focus. The slightest mishap on their part, and they wouldn’t even survive the night.

Swallowing hard, the Princess looked to the sky, searching for the Wild Dragons’ inevitable response to the earsplitting alarm. It was nearly one in the morning, but she doubted any creature for miles could sleep through the shrill howl the black dragon still bellowed.

Then the mighty sound of flapping wings resounded through the air. A sudden wind blew through the trees, knocking her and Cyrus from their feet. A war cry answered, deep and ominous.

Then . . . she saw him.

Gargantuan crimson scales soared over their island, briefly eclipsing the sky. Then the full moon revealed the most terrifyingly massive dragon Terra had ever seen. Her father had once speculated that the Wild Dragons worked in pack-like behavior, following a single leader—an Alpha Dragon, he had taken to calling it.

It seemed his speculation was true.

The Alpha Dragon arched his back and spread his colossal wings to their full, astonishing length. Giant horns the size of trees protruded from the rear of his skull, curving down toward the creature’s back. Sharp talons lined each of his claws and feet. Smoke billowed from his nostrils as the Alpha Dragon landed on the lookout island, still more than a mile from where the Riders were hovering.

Terra knew dragons were intelligent creatures; when she saw the Alpha Dragon smirk at his quarries, she knew he was issuing an unspoken challenge.

For a long moment both parties remained still. The Riders gawked at the gargantuan creature before them that easily dwarfed the largest of their own. Terra couldn’t blame their reluctance.

One of the youngest Riders, whose name she couldn’t place, cautiously inched toward the mighty beast. The Alpha Dragon waited a few seconds as the Rider drew near. Then, without moving from his perch, the powerful creature casually flapped his giant wings a single time. The gust of wind generated by the simple motion hurled the young Rider back and beyond his comrades like a twig thrown from a hurricane.

The Alpha Dragon’s smirk grew wider. Then he sucked in a great breath of air and spewed fire from his flaring jaws. Crackling orange flames raced through the sky like lightning toward Candore’s Riders. Just before the inferno could reach them, the flames split in two directions, circling around the group until all thirty dragons were trapped in a giant ring of fire.

Terra clasped a hand over her mouth. Even from this great a distance, she could see the panicked Riders quivering in fear.

The King’s dragon, sire of T’Saunté, was undoubtedly the most powerful creature she had ever seen. Until now. Even her father’s mount paled in comparison to the leader of the Wild Dragons.

Satisfied at the cowering Riders before him, the Alpha Dragon released Candore’s fabled army from its fiery prison. The Dragon Riders wasted no time in fleeing back beneath the clouds, leaving only a trailing pillar of smoke in their wake.

The Alpha Dragon waited a few extra moments to make sure they wouldn’t double back, then he lifted up his giant wings and flew to the largest of the floating islands.

Terra let out the breath she hadn’t realized she was holding and looked at Cyrus. The young fisherman was visibly shaking. In the few hours since she’d met him, Cyrus had always maintained a level composure, approaching every situation with a calm, even tactical, efficiency. But the awesome display of the Alpha Dragon’s might had left him rattled, and with good reason. They both knew if the Wild Dragons discovered them hiding in their ranks, they would have to face the wrath of their leader.

King Xyloth stared out at the dark, cloudy night from the highest entrance to Candore. Hands clasped behind his back, he couldn’t help but feel a growing level of respect for his youngest daughter—a respect that was non-existent before today. Terra had always been the black sheep of the family; she lacked the ruthless determination of her siblings, but she surprised him with her level of resistance. Xyloth had fully expected her to succumb to his will; the fact that she didn’t showed strength.

Maybe she won’t be so easily killed after all.

The youngest child was always at a severe disadvantage once the war for the throne broke out. Each heir was given their own castle within the Unknown Regions as a base of operations, but the elder children had years to fortify their strongholds and expand their armies with the Breath of the Masters. In all the generations leading up till now, only once had the youngest child managed to slay the others and seize the throne for himself. That detriment, coupled with Terra’s peaceful nature and reluctance to use the Breath of the Masters, had led many to believe she wouldn’t survive the first week of the war.

Though he disapproved of her actions, Terra had shown cunning and resolve, two traits she would desperately need to survive against the others.

She may surprise her brothers and sisters yet, the King mused. Nevertheless, she disobeyed my command. A message must be sent. That peasant must die.

The softest of sounds reverberated through the air, so quiet even a trained attack dog would question whether it had heard it. A moment later, the King’s aide appeared at his side, dressed completely in black save for a dark red mask.

“What is your will, Your Majesty,” the servant asked respectfully.

“Send four of the Dragon Riders to Koh’Lah.”

“To Koh’Lah?”

“That peasant will return to his home,” the King declared without turning his gaze. “Have the Riders inform our allied country to be on the lookout for two fugitives. Make sure to provide a thorough description.”

“Forgive me,” the aide said reluctantly, “but will Koh’Lah be so quick to turn in one of its own?”

The King turned his head just enough to glimpse the smaller figure from the corner of his eye. “They know full well the consequences of breaking our alliance. That peasant will receive no help from his countrymen, I assure you.”

“As you command, Your Majesty. But what of the Ritual of Adulthood?”

Still staring into the night sky, Xyloth answered, “Terra has made her choice. Send word to the Unknown Regions that the war has officially begun.”

“Of course, Your Majesty.” The aide left swiftly and silently, leaving Xyloth to ponder which of his children would be the first victim . . .

Cyrus had never left his home country until now. He knew the world was mostly unexplored, home to legendary creatures and mysterious powers, but he had assumed the stories were greatly exaggerated. Twelve hours earlier he wouldn’t have believed he’d witness the spectacles he just had.

He still didn’t know what to make of it. His home, his sixteen years of life as a fisherman, seemed like a distant dream to him now. That he had ever lived such a simple life was mind-boggling compared to the events he had been thrust into since earlier that evening.

They were safe for the moment, but only if they could remain hidden from the Wild Dragons. T’Saunté, still in his smaller lizard-like form, walked obediently beside them as they headed toward the center of the island for water.

“I think we’d better stick around for a short while, just to make sure the Riders aren’t waiting for us beneath the clouds,” Cyrus suggested.

“Are you sure that’s safe?” Terra asked nervously, glancing around as though expecting one of the Wild Dragons to swoop down on them at any moment.

“Here we at least have a chance to stay hidden,” he pointed out. “If we try to leave now, and they are waiting for us . . . there won’t be anything we can do.”

“All right,” she conceded. “How long do you think we should wait?”

“At least an hour.” Running a hand through his hair, he added, “Now that we’ve got a spare moment, though, what happened to me back on the cliff? Why did my body jump on its own?”

Terra flinched at his query. Clearly it was something she wasn’t too comfortable with.

“I . . .” She sighed. “When I gave you the Breath of the Masters, it not only healed you—it gave me the power to control you.”

Cyrus stopped in his tracks, causing the other two to stop as well. “You bound me to your will?” he asked, a hint of anger in his voice.

“Not purposefully,” Terra explained, a hurt look in her eyes. “I only gave you the Breath of the Masters to save your life—the same reason I compelled you to jump back at the spire. I was afraid you weren’t going to, and my father . . .”

Cyrus folded his arms and waited for her to continue.

Terra’s bottom lip quivered. She looked on the verge of tears. “The Breath of the Masters is how my family gathers its army: by subjugating a victim’s mind and body, turning them into the perfect slave. My brothers and sisters have bound many creatures this way, just as my father bound his dragon and his army.

“But I promise you,” she continued, “I won’t ever force you to do anything this way again. Nor will I use that ability to enslave anyone or anything.” Terra shook her head, a defiant expression etched on her features. “I’m not like the rest of my family.”

After a moment of silence, she added, “I’m so sorry I dragged you into this, Cyrus. If I had any idea how this was going to turn out, I never would have brought you to Candore. I’ll do anything I can to make it up to you.”

Cyrus gave her a hard stare. Her words were passionate, and her remorse did seem genuine.

“What about T’Saunté?” he asked, nodding at the dragon. “Is he bound in any way?”

Terra shook her head. “No, he follows me of his own free will. You’re the only person I’ve ever given the Breath of the Masters to. The only one I ever will, for that matter.”

Cyrus studied her posture and mannerisms. A lot could be gleaned from a person’s body language, but as before, she seemed to be telling the truth.

“Okay,” he said finally. “I believe you have a pure heart. As long as that never changes, I’d gladly welcome you and T’Saunté to accompany me.”

Relief flooded Terra’s face. She smiled and suddenly embraced him in a quick hug. Cyrus was so startled he didn’t even have a chance to return it. T’Saunté gave a low growl but made no move to intervene. Trotting to the stream’s bank, the dragon lapped up some water.

Terra knelt down beside him and splashed a handful of water on her face. Before joining them, Cyrus took a moment to examine his surroundings. The forest was green and ripe, smelling sweetly of rain and flowers. The lush trees were thick with leafy green branches, providing plenty of cover for them to move through. The only sound he could hear was the gentle flowing of water down the creek. Despite the ever present danger of the Wild Dragons, the floating islands were both serene and beautiful.

Relaxing for the first time since sunset, Cyrus knelt down and cupped his hands together, trapping enough water for him to drink. He hadn’t realized how dry and cracked his mouth had been until the sweet water hit his lips. He drank several handfuls before rising to his feet.

Gazing down into the stream, he saw the pale reflection of the full moon poking out between the branches. His eyes fell upon himself, looking just the same as he had that morning, but somehow older.

An image suddenly formed in the water beside his reflection. Startled, Cyrus whirled around to face whatever had moved behind him.

But nothing was there.

His eyes darted back and forth, searching the trees and shrubs, but there was no sign of whatever he’d seen. Hesitantly he turned back around.

And a rotting green hand shot out from the water, reaching for the Princess’s shoulder.

A wave of terror crashed over Cyrus. Acting on instinct, he took hold of Terra and yanked her to the ground, barely evading the claw swiping through the space where she’d sat only a second earlier. The Princess whirled around and stifled a scream at the reflection of a mossy green humanoid with sharp fangs and blood-red eyes.

A gasp escaped Cyrus’s throat, and the reflection, no—the creature—hauled itself out of the stream and stood up to its full seven-foot height. A strong, putrid odor escaped the cracks and pores of the monster’s decaying flesh. Water dripped down its body, pooling into a small symbol branded into its chest. The creature looked down at them and smiled maliciously. Fear pulsed through Cyrus’s blood and he backed up beside Terra and T’Saunté.

Drawing his fishing knife from its sheath, he asked in a horrified voice, “What is that thing?”

The creature took a long, slow step toward them, and Terra, Cyrus, and T’Saunté all recoiled in unison, withdrawing from the advancing monster.

“It’s a Bloody Bones,” Terra whispered. “Something of a water boogeyman—it has the power to move between any lake, stream, or puddle in the world.”

“And why is it after us?” Cyrus asked, taking another step back alongside the others.

“It’s one of Lozarrik’s slaves,” Terra answered in a trembling voice. “That insignia scarred into its chest belongs to my eldest brother. But for him to be openly attacking us . . . means my father must have signaled the start of the war.”

The Bloody Bones pursued them with a lumbering, almost sleep-like pace. A guttural moan emerged from its throat, as though the smell of flesh and blood had forced a starved, uncontrollable ache from the pit of its stomach.

The monster stopped suddenly and glanced back toward the stream. After a moment’s hesitation, it continued its relentless pursuit.

“Does that thing draw its power from the water?” Cyrus asked in a hushed voice.

“Yes,” Terra answered quickly. “The more water, the stronger it gets. If it was raining right now, we would already be dead.”

Cyrus winced and gritted his teeth. He considered asking T’Saunté to change into his larger, more powerful form, but that would also bring a greater risk of attracting the Wild Dragons’ attention. Glancing behind him, he saw that they were almost to a small clearing.

“Spread out,” he said, darting in between the other two. “Our only chance is to surround him and attack from all sides.”

Terra nodded and slowly moved out to Cyrus’s left, while T’Saunté moved to the right. The Bloody Bones hesitated, unsure of which of its dividing prey to follow, but Cyrus kept his gaze locked on the creature’s eyes. The unyielding stare seemed to lure the monster inexorably toward him.

Cyrus’s breaths came deep and forceful. He dropped into a fighting crouch, both hands raised in front of his face like a boxer. The crescent shaped blade of his fishing knife gleamed silver in the pale moonlight, held tight in his right hand. He had never been in a fight before, and certainly not against a monster. He had no idea what he was getting into, but if nothing else he wanted to keep the Bloody Bones’ attention on him at all times so the more agile T’Saunté could ambush the creature from behind.

Cyrus took a few more steps back, careful to avoid the shrubs and tree roots until he reached the glade. The grass was halfway between his ankles and knees, and a few more steps brought the monster into the clearing as well.

With the Bloody Bones surrounded on all sides like the middle of a triangle, Cyrus made his move. The monster held out its clawed hands, eagerly accepting his challenge.