In your quest. My quest… Petrus remembered the abilities of Gaius, and changed thought immediately.
… is to support you as long as you treat us well.
“What happened?”
“Typhos went to Anatolus last night and destroyed the entire place. As best as I could sense, there were no survivors.”
“Sad,” Petrus said.
“Well, there were no survivors on Anatolus, but there was one from Anatolus. Typhos brought with him five guardians, and came back with five people, but the balance changed. One guardian was killed in battle, and Typhos brought back a prisoner.”
“Who?” Petrus inquired.
“I do not know her name. She’s a young girl with an insane amount of power.”
Could it be… one of them? Or her?
“Do you know anything else about the girl?”
“She’s one of us, a Kastori, but it was odd. She dressed like a human and carried herself as a human, yet apparently has enough power to help Typhos destroy an entire planet. I believe this, because if she was not that strong, Typhos would have killed her.”
“The maniac had a moment of sanity,” Petrus said with a smile.
Petrus chuckled knowingly but didn’t say anything in response.
It could be…
“Regardless of what she is, however, the fact that she is a prisoner of Typhos places her on our side by default. I will need to be near her to sense her, but I suspect her powers can swing the battle in our favor.”
“Then we need to go and rescue her,” Petrus stated. “I don’t trust Typhos to keep his temper and not kill her. She’ll say something—or not say something—and he’ll kill her. We—”
“Petrus, slow down,” Gaius said. “There is the second part of this that will benefit us. Typhos has mentioned numerous times going to a new planet to gain more power. None of us know when that time is. I don’t even think Typhos himself knows. But he will be leaving, and when that happens, we can all prepare a coup and use the girl to ambush Typhos when he returns.”
True. But… if whichever one of those girls it is gets hurt…
She would help all of us. Not just in battle.
“Free her, lay in wait for Typhos, kill him, and comfort will return to Monda.”
“Yes, with I at the head of the throne,” Gaius reminded Petrus. “I will free your people from this slave labor, and I will allow you to live your lives however you wish, provided they do not interfere with the Kastori way of life.”
Petrus nodded as he kept his thoughts agreeable.
“Your rule would be a much better reign than Typhos.”
“Just by default,” Gaius said with a laugh. “I may eventually bring my people back to Anatolus if I find the damage there is not extensive. I would expect that if any humans are still alive there, that they will return to you.”
“Oh, are you kidding?” Petrus said. “We’d take them back immediately! They’d probably come back themselves!”
“Good. This is just a hypothetical, and we must not waste time on it. Our first order of business is for you to prepare your men. When Typhos leaves, I will be tasked with watching the temple. I will alert you by temporarily clearing the storm above the temple. At that point, your men will need to move quickly.”
“Unarmed?”
Gaius shook his head.
“No. I will place some weapons in your shed, taken from the warehouse that you provided me.”
Really hope Gaius is on our side.
“You have nothing to fear, Petrus. Support me, and I will support you. It’s simply more effective in the long term not to kill your allies. You will need to kill any Kastori patrolling the area—for if I kill them, they will alert Typhos, he will ruin our plans, and he will kill us. I can block him from seeing the world through my eyes, but we will need to move quickly to free the girl. It will not be as simple as opening the door and letting her out.”
Petrus nodded.
“From there… we wait for his return and fight.”
“Understood.”
“Good. Now, for the time being, Petrus, you know what I have to do.”
Petrus sighed as he let his body go limp in preparation for the damage Gaius would inflict. He rose and held on to the hope that this would only happen a few more times.
Gaius slammed him into the ceiling and back down to the ground and departed.
29
Cyrus. Crystil. I’m sorry. I’ll find a way out and get back to you both.
Celeste had gone completely silent save for one cold response since she’d returned to Monda. She felt no relief at coming back home because nothing looked the same. The sky raged with a storm unlike any she had ever experienced. Her father was dead, probably not even properly buried. The once-majestic palace now looked like a run-down artifact with careless inhabitants. This is not home.
She leaned down on the bed, trying to close her eyes and shut out the trauma she had just experienced. All of those Kastori… Pagus… Amira… everyone. The meteor coming… No way Cyrus and Crystil are dead. No way. There’s no way!
She heard footsteps coming her way. Her body tensed and her stomach flipped. The door opened with a slam, and footsteps slowly approached.
“Tired?” Typhos asked.
Celeste said nothing. Go away. I’m not talking to you.
“I understand. It’s been a long day. But I’ve been through what you have experienced today more than you might suspect.”
He pulled up the chair and sat near the edge of the bed.
“Do you want to know what happened to me before?”
His voice seemed oddly calm and almost parental, like a father talking to a sad child. Celeste became too curious and rolled over. The sight of his mask instantly made her cold again.
“Come, I will explain everything,” Typhos said. “I have prepared a meal of wine and balicae for us. You can even use your magic in my dining hall to make sure it is clean.”
“My father’s dining hall,” Celeste said.
Typhos gave a short laugh.
“Ahh, yes, the daughter of the former Emperor Orthran,” Typhos said. “You have quite the spunk… Celeste.”
Celeste felt chills. He hadn’t said her name before, but with a disturbing emphasis on the “-este,” it frightened her that he could figure that out without asking her.
“I politely ask you to come, Celeste. You can, of course, decline, but this is an opportunity not even my guardians get, let alone a prisoner. Please come.”
He’s not going to be any better than this. You might even learn some of his weak points, things you can use against him later.
Celeste said nothing, but she swung her feet over the edge of the bed and stood up. Typhos placed his hands on the chair for support and rose. She knew he was tall, but seeing that he was taller than even Cyrus surprised her.
Typhos sauntered in front of her, Celeste trailing by no more than a couple of feet. The temple seemed even more dilapidated on the inside, showing clear signs of pillaging from the days of war. Typhos, however, had kept the rooms the same, save for turning an old servant’s room into a prison, and led her to the dining hall she had eaten at many times with her family and father’s advisors. A gray table with two gray chairs awaited them, and each had a glass of red wine. Typhos pulled back the chair for Celeste, who nervously sat. Typhos sat in front of her, and Celeste instantly noticed what happened next.
He removed his mask to reveal…
Nothing.
All she could see was blackness.
“Don’t be surprised,” he said. “I do have a face, much like yours. But I am not going to reveal it to you just yet. We need to become better acquainted.”
“OK,” Celeste said, surprising herself with her verbal response. She looked down at the red wine suspiciously, and tested it with her magic. It was, indeed, clean.
“And you doubt that I want you as my second in command,” Typhos said with bemused sarcasm.
Celeste reached
down and took a sip. Don’t want to admit it, but… this is the best wine I’ve ever had.
“I sense that you enjoy the wine,” he said.
That brought a surprising smile to Celeste’s face.
“It’s as much as I’ll enjoy right now,” she said.
“I wouldn’t assume as much,” he said as he sipped some of his wine. “This is about you, Celeste. And everyone loves talking about themselves, no matter how humble they claim to be. I want to know more about you. You have a brother, true?”
“Yes,” Celeste said.
“Cyrus.”
Celeste said nothing. He knows he’s right. He just wants to hear me affirm that he’s right.
“Why is he not as powerful as you?”
The tone of Typhos’ voice had become ominous, and Celeste put the wine down as she prepared for an outburst.
“You know what, don’t answer that. We really shouldn’t go there on our first dinner together,” Typhos said as he took another gulp of his wine. “We will have plenty of time to learn about each other, and that will happen, for there is much mystery surrounding you I would like to figure out. Right now—”
“Such as?” Celeste said, wanting to know what dug at Typhos’ mind.
Celeste couldn’t see it, but she felt sure Typhos had a cocky grin on his face that resembled the one Cyrus always had.
“Your father was the emperor of Monda, yet he never used magic. Was he a Kastori who kept his powers suppressed for the sake of his people? Oh, how delicious a twist that would be. Or did your mother give it to you? The mother who died giving birth to you—such an outcome would have resulted in quite the rush of power to you, Celeste. But if it was your mother, then who was she?”
I’d like to know as much as you do.
“In any case, we’ll get to those questions later. I want you to know why I am here. I am sorry that I had to kill your father, but you see, Monda has… let’s just say a bad association from the past for me. It reminded me of some things that I wish to never remember, and so if I made it mine, I could change how it affected me. And—”
“Has it?”
Typhos kept going after hesitating for a second, ignoring Celeste.
“—since then I have realized that I shouldn’t limit myself to Monda. There are so many worlds out there. And the thing that I didn’t learn until recently was that there aren’t just more civilized worlds out there—there are planets with nearly unlimited power. Magic isn’t just limited to the Kastori, Celeste. Magic can be used and contained by entire celestial bodies. Specifically, we have found three individual planets which correspond to each type of magic. And I want those worlds. But to do so alone would risk an uprising here.”
Why does he want those planets? If Monda was a bad reminder of the past, then these planets… are they terrible things too?
“I need someone powerful I can count on to help keep order when I’m gone. Not like these pathetic guardians—mere figureheads in the grand scheme of things. No, I need someone willing to help me destroy anyone who gets in my way. And you, dear child, can be that someone.”
Typhos took a prolonged gulp of his wine as two plates with thick pieces of balicae and freshly-braised vegetables were placed down by a magicologist who quickly left the room. Typhos shut the door with his power behind the magicologist.
“Dig in, eat for a couple of minutes, think about it,” he said.
There’s nothing to think about, Celeste thought as she devoured her food. I’m not helping this guy. He killed my father. I don’t think it can get simpler than that.
Typhos let her eat for about five minutes in silence, the haunting blackness staring at her, until he stood up, having finished his plate.
“I believe this relationship is off to a magnificent start, Celeste,” he said. “Now, I have asked you many questions, and would like to offer you the chance. Do you have questions for me?”
“Why did you kill my father?” she asked immediately.
“He was the enemy and the ruler of Monda. It was nothing personal.”
“It’s always personal, Typhos.”
Speaking of.
“And why are you so hateful, especially, to Erda?”
Celeste quickly leaned back into her chair as Typhos threw the table against the side wall. Plates and wine glasses shattered, food splattered to the floor and the table clanked upon hitting the ground. Typhos stood over her and placed his hands tightly on her shoulders, digging his fingers in. She noticed the bony hand bit her lip to avoid screaming.
“Never, ever, ever mention her name here,” he said. “Are we clear?”
Celeste started to reply, but Typhos yelled, “Are we?!?”
Celeste nodded and said, “Yes.”
But now I know his weak point. Something about her and their past.
“Good,” Typhos said. “I apologize for the outburst. It looks like dinner is complete. Thank you for a lovely evening, Celeste, and consider what I have said.”
He walked her back to her prison and shut the door.
“Sleep tight. Dream about the glory I can offer you,” he said, sending chills down the young girl’s spine.
30
Cyrus opened his eyes and looked out on an expanse so vast he felt he could see the curvature of Anatolus. He turned around, expecting to see more open sky, and instead saw the side of Mount Ardor. He only had about a hundred more feet to climb, and when he looked to his right, he saw a staircase spiraling around the mountain, leading up.
“Couldn’t make it up all the way?” he asked Erda, standing on the first step.
“The concentration of magic is so intense up there, no one can teleport into it,” she said reverently. “All of us teleport down here and climb. Even as chief, I could not teleport there.”
Cyrus raised his eyes once more to the peak. He didn’t see anything of particular note, though the fog this high up was thicker and the air thinner.
“This magic, where does it come from?” Cyrus asked. “And can we use it to help get my sister back?”
Erda expanded her arms as if enveloping everything in view.
“It’s the magic of the planet, Cyrus.”
Wait, what?
“It’s true. Kastori are not the only beings who can harness magic. The planet itself is rich with magic, magic so great that it would make Typhos seem like a child.”
“And could someone harness such magic for their gain?” Crystil asked.
“Only someone powerful enough to do so. And such a someone would probably be either the essence of evil or fighting a great evil.”
So, Typhos or Celeste if we free her.
Erda took the pause as a chance to begin ascending the stairs, with Cyrus and Crystil following closely behind.
“Don’t look down,” Crystil ordered.
You don’t need to tell me.
The three walked in silence, Cyrus and Crystil in awe of what the view. They passed by three different caves that revealed nothing—not even the stars of the sky provided any glimpses into their entrances. Cyrus paused at one and approached but immediately felt the cold embrace of an evil darkness that sent a foreboding warning. He darted away and called Erda to ask her about the caves, but she continued walking. We’re going in at some point.
Just before the peak, the stairs came to a small outlook, which split into three directions, including the one they came from. To Cyrus’ left, fifteen steps led to the actual peak of Mount Ardor. Straight ahead, another set of stairs descended to presumably more caves and another teleportation spot. Erda had already gotten halfway up the peak, and Cyrus followed, taking the steps two at a time.
Cyrus jumped the last step and came to a circular arena, roughly fifty feet in diameter. Straight ahead, and to his left and right, forming a triangle, three different statues stood—two of men, one of a woman. Each statue had a color—black, white, or red—which Cyrus presumed corresponded to the type of magic they represented. The red and the white statues held swords in t
heir hands, the sharp, long blades pointing straight up to the sky. The black figure had an open hand, but no blade. In the middle of the arena, a triangle with extended, curving, looping arms was embedded, a large figure which extended to all but the last five feet of the stage. The ground was smooth, a dirt, rock surface, but without pebbles or jagged areas.
“Welcome to the peak of Mount Ardor,” Erda said. “This is the area with the greatest concentration of magic. Do you feel it?”
Cyrus was too awestruck to answer. The statues all had wings and what looked like engraved armor. The black statue had two sets of wings, four total, with long fingers and deep, disturbing eyes, captivating the attention of Cyrus.
“I do,” Crystil said, a surprising answer which grabbed the attention of Cyrus. “I’m not sure if I ‘feel it’ as you do, but it’s like whenever I walked into Emperor Orthran’s throne room. You could just feel the weight of his power and his presence there.”
“Indeed, this is not a place to come alone. The intensity can overwhelm even strong Kastori without proper preparation.”
She walked over to the white statue—with short hair, a thoughtful look and a smile that Cyrus couldn’t quite place—and carefully removed the sword. Cyrus half-expected the statue to come to life with the magic’s presence. Erda gave the sword to Cyrus, who cautiously took it. Immediately he felt a bonding to it, as its magic coursed through his body with a rush that made him tremble. He took a closer look at it, and saw a white emerald engraved into the hilt of the sword. He swung it a couple of times, and though it was far bigger than the one which he practiced with, it felt as light as an aviant’s feather, gliding through the air.
“Cyrus, though your greatest powers are in black magic, the white sword will prove to be a powerful asset to you,” Erda said. “Wield it, and you will be able to recover from most attacks rapidly. Wounds will heal, physical spells will have minimal effect on you, and you will be able to fight efficiently.”
Good. We need this to rescue Celeste.
Erda went over to the next statue—the one of the woman, who had long hair, half-closed eyes and an expression that could have either been sadness or curiosity—and removed the sword from the woman’s hands. It was the exact same as the sword Cyrus held, except it had a red ruby instead of a white emerald in its hilt. She offered it to Crystil, who hesitated to accept, but a nod from Erda gave her the necessary encouragement. Crystil grabbed it and swung it as Cyrus had.
Kastori Devastations (The Kastori Chronicles Book 2) Page 11