Kastori Revelations (The Kastori Chronicles Book 1)

by Stephen Allan

  “I get jumpy like that sometimes. Unexpected noises don’t sit well with me. How can I help?”

  Celeste looked up at the sky as if trying to locate the monster. When she couldn’t, she shrugged and raised her hands.

  “I keep waiting for that thing,” she said, pointing to the sky, her voice just above a whisper. “To come down and annihilate us. I’m terrified of that. I know if it does come, it’ll probably be quick and relatively painless. But I’m scared to death, Crystil. I don’t want to die. I know it’s coming, and we can’t do much, but I want to die surrounded by you two, not in the pit of the monster.”

  Crystil stood up and put her arm around Celeste as she finished speaking. The young girl enveloped Crystil tightly.

  “When I was in the military and a bodyguard for your father, I knew I could die at any second,” Crystil said, her eyes trained to the sky as she spoke, ever alert. “A magicologist could target a spell, and I’d have to take it. An assassin might come, and I’d have to sacrifice myself. Or I could just have dumb luck with something stupid like a ship crashing. But we had a rite that helped me.”

  She paused as she heard a loud swoop and the ground shook, but when she peeked outside of the cavern, the outline of the monster was on the other side of the forest.

  “Before I went on missions, and before I became one of your father’s bodyguards, they performed a funeral rite for me. Literally, they all acted like it was a funeral. They put me in a casket and placed my rifle on my chest and my sword in my hand. Four of my closest comrades carried my casket to a burial ground, and I laid there, with my eyes closed, as everyone gave their remembrances and a military funeral. They used blanks for the salute, but they had everything else you’d find at a military funeral. They lowered me onto the ground, and everyone left. I was only ‘allowed’ to leave when everyone was gone. It’s funny, you know on a logical level it’s fake, but it feels so real, you really feel like you died and what you’re doing now is just a bonus. If you die, you feel like it already happened, so what is there to fear?”

  She looked into Celeste’s eyes. They seemed to understand how it worked for Crystil, but not for her.

  “The lesson of all of this is that if we die, so be it. I know that sounds nihilistic, but it’s not. We didn’t feel pain at all of the wars of the past, and we won’t feel pain for whatever happens in the future. We feel what we feel while we’re here, so when we look up at the monster in the sky, maybe at first we feel fear and death. But we choose our future reactions, and I choose acceptance. I accept that that thing is up there, I accept that I may die, and I accept that I will die someday. Does that help?”

  Celeste smiled and gave a hesitant nod.

  “It doesn’t all make sense, honestly. But I do get the essence of what you mean.”

  “I understand. For what it’s worth, for over half of that rite, I still thought ‘fake, fake, fake.’ But then when my comrades came and told me to rest in peace, that brought a chill. But immediately following the chill was that acceptance, born out of the realization that death would not be terrible, and I had no reason to fear it.”

  Celeste nodded and squeezed Crystil tight again.

  “Thanks Crystil. Get some sleep. I want to fall asleep on your shift and not have you pass out too.”

  Crystil gave a stifled laugh, still mindful of what was out there. She took her respite once more against her supplies, and this time, her mind did not rush as much. She fell asleep within half an hour, noticing just before drifting off that Celeste seemed both less anxious and more alert.

  23

  Celeste portrayed a great deal of confidence after Crystil’s funeral speech. She’d learned what constituted good body language from her father, her commander, and her brother, and had decided now was the time to act confident. Actions could fool someone as regimented as Crystil.

  Celeste could not fool herself. Gifted with the ability to detect hidden emotions, blocks, and tendencies, she knew that no matter how much her brain brimmed with confidence, the confidence hinged on flimsy optimism.

  Hope you’re right, Crystil. Please be right.

  Thinking about her own funeral didn’t bring mindless fearlessness in her. She could understand why some of the rigid thinkers could act as if they’d already died, blessed with a proper sendoff. She wasn’t such a thinker, however. When she tried to picture her own funeral, she imagined the grief on Cyrus’ face, the cries of her father, and the morbid expression of Crystil. Thinking of her own funeral made her determined to live, mostly out of a fear of hurting those she loved.

  Her mind shifted to Cyrus, all alone in the wild with the great beast just waiting to eat him. She shuddered at the thought. She would be going to a funeral soon, but it wasn’t going to be her own. Unless he magically snapped out of it and found sanity on a planet that encouraged insane thoughts, she would bury him, and the tombstone would not be metaphorical.

  She began to see Anatolus as Cyrus did. She understood why he felt the way he did when he left the ship. We’ll all die at some point. Thinking about it doesn’t make it any easier. But it’s easy to say this is the end.

  But…

  Don’t do it, Cyrus. Please. Go back to the ship. Wait for us. At least hunt and eat. Don’t just wither away and die. I need you. We both need you.

  She turned her gaze to the sky, and the creature flew far off in the distance. She bent down and scratched her cut, the area around her right calf becoming more irritated by the hour. She looked at Crystil, who faced toward the cave, resting on her side. Even then, Crystil’s hand still rested on her rifle, prepared to fire with one eye closed and the other only a quarter open.

  Celeste tried to keep a watchful eye out, but the thoughts of her brother wore her down. She went to Crystil, about two feet from her, and crouched down, gently whispering her name. She did not want to startle her and become the victim of friendly fire.

  “Can you watch?” she whispered, so quietly she would’ve had trouble hearing herself with Omega One’s white noise.

  “Yes,” Crystil said, rising to attention at an incredible pace.

  She walked past Celeste and stood a few feet from the edge of the cavern, rifle in hand, already prepared to fire. If ever there was a person who did not fear death, it was Crystil. That, more than any hypothetical funeral or ill-conceived optimistic belief, comforted Celeste.

  Celeste laid down and propped her head against the backpack, feeling safer behind Crystil than the hundreds of rounds she had in her own machine gun.

  24

  Celeste awoke with her back away from the entrance, but the lighted portion of the cave gave away the sunrise. She’d slept well knowing she had Monda’s greatest soldier to protect her and hadn’t even kept her rifle within grabbing distance. She turned to face Crystil, who had her rifle in her hands, not cocked but able to be fired at an instant’s notice.

  “Hey,” she cooed, trying to avoid startling her commander. “How was it last night?”

  “Nothing dramatic. Some rustling and aviants, but I didn’t have to raise my gun,” Crystil said without turning around.

  Celeste stood up, stretched her arms out, and walked to the commander with a yawn.

  “You can look back, it’s OK. Nothing’s going to pop up and hurt us.”

  Crystil turned to her, a bemused smile on her face, and jokingly whirled back to the opening. Celeste, still slowly waking, chuckled and felt good about the day.

  “Did you ever see… that thing?”

  Crystil nodded but added nothing more.

  “Shall we continue?” Crystil said.

  “Definitely,” Celeste said, though she noticed her leg had become significantly itchier and both of her legs felt weaker than the day before. “Weird. So, random question. How are you feeling, Crystil?”

  “Fine,” Crystil said.

  “You’re not sore or anything?”

  Crystil turned back and recognized something on Celeste’s face as her normally stonewall expressi
on transformed into a sympathetic look.

  “A bit, but nothing that’s going to stop me. Are you fine?”

  “Oh, yeah, I’m good,” Celeste quickly replied with a wave. “Just… a bit sorer than I expected, but I’m good. I’m good to hike.”

  “Good. Let me know if we need to stop or if we need to go home. We’re not that far from the ship.”

  Celeste gathered her equipment and threw it over her back. She lifted her leg to look at the scratch. From the outside of her suit, it didn’t seem swollen. When she pulled the clothing back, the cut had become a light purple, but nothing alarming. Celeste figured she was experiencing the worst of it and would soon feel back to her normal, healthy self.

  The two explorers first went to a cave so close they didn’t even trek down a valley or path to reach it. That cave, however, had the same result—big openings with little depth. Celeste wondered if there wasn’t a better way to do it, as she couldn’t think of a bigger priority for such equipment than finding water.

  Then, far off, they saw it. The largest opening yet. It wasn’t a cave so much as a giant opening in the ground, as if a crater had struck that spot long ago. From their vantage point, the opening stretched out a couple hundred feet, and it looked like there were plenty of ledges and rocks that would allow for an easy descent.

  “Water always follows the easiest path, and what easier path is there than gravity taking you down,” Celeste mused.

  Crystil nodded, and Celeste noted the hint of optimistic energy from the commander. They hustled over, their arms looser on their guns.

  At the brink of the hole, they looked down. They could easily scale the first few dozen feet down, for the cave seemed to slope gently. The cavern continued beyond their view, but they could see the bottom, which extended into an unknown cavern.

  “Do you feel like you can make the climb with your legs?” Crystil asked.

  The gaze followed the question, but it only reinforced the tone. Celeste detected doubt and felt nervous Crystil suspected something about the itching that she didn’t.

  “Yeah, it’s an easy descent—”

  “I mean on the way up when we turn around,” Crystil said.

  The realization made Celeste queasy. The soreness and weakness had gotten worse in the hours since they’d woken up. Descending and ascending out of the cavern would take at least another hour.

  “I… I should be fine,” Celeste said without any confidence.

  “You’re—”

  Crystil abruptly cut off her train of thought but kept her eyes on Celeste.

  “If I feel truly awful, I’ll let you know, I promise,” she said.

  Crystil nodded and crouched down. The two carefully climbed down, squatting for a lower center of gravity and making sure their feet remained planted firmly on the rocks. Though the rocks gave a wide berth and a comfortable footing, any error would’ve resulted in a fatal collapse and tumble.

  They’d descended about thirty feet when Celeste slipped on her right foot. She quickly gathered herself as she landed on her butt against the rocks, but the mistake frightened her. Crystil, one level down, scaled back up remarkably quickly and squatted in front of Celeste. She looked down at Celeste’s feet and didn’t bother to hide her fear, an expression that Celeste had not seen on the commander often.

  “Celeste, your leg…”

  Celeste saw the swelling. Even with the suit on, it was obvious. She lifted the cloth up and cringed at the purple, which had become darker and formed the shape of a ball.

  “How do you feel?” Crystil asked, slowly but in a way that betrayed the fear in her.

  “Weak,” Celeste admitted, seeing no reason now to put on a brave face. “It’s OK, you can go if you want.”

  “No way,” Crystil said. “I lost one of you already. I’m not leaving another one behind. In your condition and given the direction of your wound, we need to get you back to the ship. Now.”

  Celeste couldn’t argue the point, but she didn’t want to be seen as helpless.

  “OK, but I’m fine, I bruise easily.”

  “That may be, but we’re still going back to the ship. Climb. I’ll help if you need it.”

  Celeste slowly stood up, and when she put the weight on her leg, she definitely noticed a difference. It felt like someone had magically sapped half her strength, and though she could still function, climbing the first rock required more of her upper body strength than she imagined.

  She heard tearing behind her, and looked back to see that Crystil had ripped off part of her suit. She wrapped it tightly just above the bruise on Celeste’s leg, so tight that Celeste grimaced in pain.

  “It’ll slow down whatever is happening to you,” Crystil said. “Can you keep going?”

  “Yeah,” Celeste said, the pain of the tight knot stronger than the pain of the scar.

  “If it goes numb, I’ll loosen it, but we’ll need to tighten back up again. On and off. Slow down the effect until we can get you medical treatment.”

  Celeste nodded and scaled back up to the mouth of the cave with great difficulty. The sun had already descended from its zenith in the sky. It still had a ways to go before night, but she and Crystil were on the wrong side of daylight.

  “Can Cortanus heal me?” she asked.

  “Probably, we have all sorts of medical supplies,” Crystil said, though Celeste thought Crystil answered more optimistically than she actually felt. “Can you jog?”

  Celeste tried. It wound up as a tired jog, her body leaning forward, her momentum carrying her more than her legs. But she could.

  “It’s getting worse, Crystil,” Celeste said, hoping she sounded more honest than scared.

  “I’ll carry you if need be. We’re only a few hours out.”

  The words reassured Celeste, who was concerned but not mortified. She had no reason to think after a night in the medical bay, she wouldn’t be ready to go back to the cavern and finally find the water they so desperately needed.

  25

  A deep roar threw Cyrus out of his sleep.

  “Oh shhh—” he screamed, even though he usually never talked before a half hour had passed after waking up.

  The wave of fear coursing through his body died down, and he headed for his window. Cyrus saw no trace of the great enemy, but it had left a haunting feeling with the cry. Cyrus swore profusely and slammed his hand against the window.

  “Thing’s gonna haunt my dreams and my life as long as I’m here. Like a stalker.”

  He went back to bed and threw the covers over his head, but knew it was futile. He didn’t feel tired. After five minutes, he didn’t even bother closing his eyes. Instead, he rolled on his side and looked out the window once again, hoping that if enough time passed without seeing the creature, his body would settle down, and he could drift back into his dreams.

  He didn’t see the monster again, but it did no good. It heightened his fear. Perhaps the beast was waiting on the other side of the ship, toying with him.

  He decided to make his awakened state useful. He headed to the lab room and opened the door with a sickened feeling in his stomach and waited until it had closed behind him to speak.

  “Cortanus,” he said slowly and deliberately, unsure of what to say.

  “Yes, Cyrus.”

  Cyrus paused before speaking the first words that came to mind.

  “Tell me what sorts of mysteries your great intelligence has unraveled over the past few hours.”

  “As we suspected, I have confirmed the artificial nature of the organism remains which you brought—”

  As Cortanus spoke, Cyrus wanted the why in his mind answered, as well as the how. He wanted to know why someone or something or some… some being created these monsters, and how it did it. Wouldn’t there be clues left behind?

  “Cortanus, give me something non-scientific. Do you have any idea why artificial life is here?”

  “I answer questions of any nature except why, Cyrus.”

  “Leaving
the hard stuff to us, I see,” Cyrus said with a weak smile as he took a seat next to the skull’s case.

  His mind flashed to the “hard stuff” he had initially set out to do. Find water. Water. Crystil. My sister. Out there…

  Just as casually as he had sat down, he launched himself up.

  “OK, change of pace here. Forget the mystery skull. Remind me. When did my sister and Crystil leave?”

  “They left two days ago.”

  “How many days of supplies did they have?”

  “Five.”

  Cyrus’ immediate gut reaction was to find weapons, supplies, and a fresh body suit and go find them. His second gut thought was to stay put, continue doing research with Cortanus, and explore only after five days had passed. As usual, one thought soon became the dominant thought.

  “Cortanus, you’re going to call me crazy, and when I see them, Celeste might slap me and Crystil might destroy me, but I don’t care. I’m gonna go find them. I have to go help them.”

  Cyrus sat up and headed to the armory while carrying on conversation.

  “Cyrus, the odds of successfully navigating this planet and finding Crystil and Celeste are approximately 3,720 to one.”

  “Oh, I guess those are pretty bad odds,” Cyrus said, pausing for a moment in front of the armory. “But, then again, when have I ever paid attention to odds?”

  He put his hand up to the armory identification system and patiently waited for the door to open. After what felt like a minute, though, not even the hum of the system analyzing his hand sounded. Cyrus removed his hand and peered closely at the tablet. He couldn’t see anything wrong with it—no smears or cracks showed on the screen. He tried once more but, again, nothing happened.

  “Cortanus, this ain’t working,” he said, but Cortanus gave no reply.

  Just my luck. The system stops working the second I need it to. Well, I don’t need it. I’m Cyrus Orthran! I got this. Celeste, I’m coming!

  He headed down the hall toward the airlock, but when he tried to open it, that door, too, would not open. Even manually pulling on the door did not work. He headed into the cockpit to reboot the system, but a strange sight awaited him inside. All of the systems inside still operated, and Cyrus could still flip through information and reports.