Kastori Restorations (The Kastori Chronicles Book 4)

by Stephen Allan

  Celeste shook her head, a clear way of saying, “Not good enough.”

  “You know Typhos is going to play all sorts of games with us, Cyrus. For all I know, he could still be playing an incredibly elaborate one right now, and I could wake up in his prison cell, ready for death. This is the battle we face now. This is why we’re treating this as the last battle. But we don’t compromise on our ethics just because the enemy has none.”

  “We do if it defeats the enemy,” Cyrus said. “You want to play by ethics? You go ahead. And when Typhos does what he said he’ll do…”

  Just saying it enraged Cyrus further. He swore under his breath before continuing.

  “Thank your ethics then. I’d rather live burning the world to defeat Typhos than dying with my self-respect intact.”

  Celeste looked profoundly hurt, but Cyrus didn’t care.

  “We’ll… we need to talk about this, but we will handle it later,” Celeste said. “Let’s reconvene on the peak of Mount Ardor. We need to decide our next steps immediately.”

  Cyrus agreed, and the three came together, locking hands. Celeste teleported them all moments later, bringing the three to the steps of Mount Ardor’s highest point.

  3

  A lone tent, barely large enough to comfortably fit about a half-dozen people, stood near the damaged remains of a highly technologically advanced human outpost. Inside, Typhos lay on his back, still recovering from a surprisingly powerful gunshot wound near his chest and a sharp sword slice to his face. Around him, wearied and exhausted white-robed Kastori worked to heal him of the stubborn wounds, some literally dying to save their Lord.

  “How much longer until you are finished?” he growled at one of his Kastori, Gregus.

  I have no time for this. The Orthrans are healed. I am not. If they come here and I have to fight in a weakened state…

  I wish taking this planet didn’t require me being full strength.

  “My Lord, it is impossible to say, the damage—”

  Enraged, Typhos stood up and shoved Gregus out of the tent. The pain still seared on his face and chest, even with the protective mask and robes on, but all of his anger pushed him past that. He stood over Gregus and lifted him off the ground.

  “Don’t tell your Lord anything is impossible,” he sneered. “I conquered Anatolus. I conquered Monda. I created Calypsius.”

  All things which I no longer have.

  You’re lucky I need you right now, Gregus. On Monda, I would’ve snapped your neck for relief.

  “And I will kill the ones who forced me into hiding here.”

  Cyrus. The human.

  Celeste.

  He flashed back to the moment when he had pierced her chest. He just had to pull the sword back and stab her again, or find her heart and end it right there. Instead, he took a beat too long to gloat and suffered his own injuries as a result.

  Even though, so sure you were dead. Now you’re the new reminder of all the terrible things I’ve experienced.

  Unless I made sure you had a chance to survive. Could it be…

  No. Celeste, you were lucky. Very lucky.

  “I… agree… My Lord,” Gregus said, bringing Typhos back to the present.

  Typhos grunted at Gregus and dropped him into the sand. He looked at the short, once-fat Kastori with disdain.

  “We’ve been here several days, and you still have not healed me properly,” Typhos said in disgust. “I should have known better than to rely on mere Kastori like this.”

  “My Lord, I’m sorry, I—”

  “Save it,” Typhos snapped. “All of you must continue to work. Anyone caught eating on my watch will suffer.”

  They do not need sustenance like I need healing. If they die, they die for a greater cause. Besides, their deaths are not the ones I crave the most.

  As Typhos whirled around, his hand on his chest, massaging the gunshot wound, he thought about how he might fight the traitorous Kastori and the annoying siblings. He had no black or red magic Kastori left. Even one man, a god in his own eyes, could not defeat an entire legion of Kastori. His earlier trials on Anatolus in his younger days had shown such a thing was not possible.

  But then the thought came to Typhos, and he couldn’t stop smiling at what he saw.

  Instead of an army of Kastori, he would have a division of monsters. Numerous Caliphae would attack on land, their overwhelming size and weapons making it impossible for the humans or Kastori to stand a chance. Beasts from the sea, ones he had not yet imagined but would create, would attack from the flanks, making retreat impossible.

  And up in the sky, Calypsius would return.

  But not just the one. He would have three—each one wielding a type of magic.

  And if even that all fails… I’ll create a monster, a destroyer of worlds. Who would ever need weak Kastori like the ones before me when I have creatures who feast on Kastori? I’m simply trading up the chain of destruction.

  You don’t have the strength to create such an army, though. You need more power. And the Orthrans will come and stop you soon if you don’t hurry.

  “All Kastori!” Typhos shouted from the entrance of his tent.

  The remaining seven survivors, all emaciated—even Gregus had lost what looked like twenty pounds since the recovery process started—quickly came to Typhos. Their heads slouched and many wobbled, on the verge of passing out.

  “I need all of you to heal me now with even more intensity than before. There will be no breaks. No one will sleep. When it is done, I promise you can have all of the rest you need. But the enemy is threatening to make its way here, and we cannot wait any longer. Understood?”

  The Kastori all wearily nodded, saying together, “Yes, Lord Typhos.”

  The man laid on his bed as he plotted his next steps. Take out Nubia. That has to happen tomorrow. If it weakens you, hide on Anatolus. You cannot let Cyrus or Celeste get that under any circumstance.

  Take Tapuya. The red magic there will allow you to summon your army of monsters.

  Then, Vostoka, if it’s there. You don’t need white magic when nothing can hurt you. So long as the siblings do not get it themselves.

  Yes. Yes. You will not fail. The one you could not kill is now dead.

  Dead…

  Yes, she’s gone. You would have killed the girl if not for your mother’s sacrifice.

  Sacrifice for her child… her favorite child…

  Celeste will die!

  The Kastori all laid hands on Typhos, and he felt the pain in his body subside. He could not remove the agony in his mind, however, as the thoughts formed an unending loop, circling between confident in triumph to regretful of what he did not have.

  4

  Celeste walked ahead of Cyrus and Crystil at the peak, both eager to see her father and to get away from her brother. He’s letting his anger get the best of him. We can’t go down that route. That’s exactly how it all started with the other brother. I don’t need a second brother who has anger and aggression issues.

  At the peak, she found her father looking out on the far side, by the statue which once held the sword now in the possession of Typhos. She slowed her walk to avoid startling him and stood next to him with a sigh.

  “Are you fighting with your brother again?” he asked with a gentle smile.

  The familiar question brought a nostalgic laugh from Celeste, one so genuine it made her forget the perceived severity of Cyrus’ actions for a few moments.

  “I wish it was over who got to sit where at the dinner table,” she said, turning back to see Crystil and Cyrus bantering as they usually did. “Dad, he killed an enemy in frustration. That’s disturbing to me. I don’t want him to end up like Typhos.”

  Emperor Orthran gave a short laugh and hugged his daughter.

  “Your brother may not have the greatest self-control, but he’s not about to turn into the villain of all living things,” he said.

  “I’m going to have to disagree,” Celeste said, bringing a quick
“huh” from her dad. “My brother does have good self-control, but he’s just so consumed by hatred that he takes it upon himself to hurt anyone associated with Typhos. It’s not that I’m opposed to killing, but I am opposed to it for the sake of it. He’s just doing it for… satisfy his emotions, I guess.”

  “Celeste, he’s not necessarily in the wrong,” her father said, followed by a quickly raised hand to let him finish his thought. “We do not torture our enemies, it is true. We do not kill without cause, that is true also. But with Typhos, we have good reason to hate him. He nearly killed both of us and enslaved Monda and Anatolus for years. He is not a man that I would show mercy to.”

  It’s not a question of mercy. It’s a question of whether he’ll always be the villain that he enjoys being. I’m not even sure he enjoys being the villain. I think he just assumes that’s the role that’ll help him quash his pain.

  “As long as you keep him alive and give him a chance to repeat.”

  “Celeste,” Emperor Orthran said, taking on a tone Celeste recognized immediately. The tone a parent takes to their child when they think the child won’t understand what’s going on. “I said it before, we will not kill without cause. But Typhos has provided plenty of causes.”

  Celeste bit her lip and said nothing more. She knew the fate of Typhos did not lie in her father’s hands. It rested in the hands of her generation—her, Cyrus, and Typhos himself. Not even Crystil would play a role given her lack of magic.

  “In any case, tell me what happened on Monda.”

  “I can do that,” Cyrus said as he approached, and he relayed all of the information, from rescuing Hanna to running down the magicologist to seeing Typhos possess the body of the weakened enemy. Celeste watched as her father expressed no overt reaction even as he acknowledged some situations as frightening or close to dangerous. She took mental notes on his leadership, knowing with her powers she would have to assume such a role soon.

  “Typhos is on Nubia now,” Cyrus said. “He said he’s going to take the magic. I think we need to head over there.”

  “And by we, you mean you and me,” Celeste said.

  “Not I?” Crystil asked, hurt and annoyance visible in her eyes.

  “Crystil, it’s just Typhos there. You can’t take out anyone from afar. And if things get messy, we can teleport out. If you’re trapped there…”

  The soldier sighed but acknowledged her limitations.

  “Are you sure that he is alone?”

  “He has some Kastori healing him, but he treats them terribly,” Celeste said. “They’re all weakened, and if any are capable of fighting when we arrive, I don’t think it will much matter.”

  “So then maybe I could help. I could take them out while you go after Typhos.”

  She’s too good at her job, Celeste thought with an appreciative smile.

  “Stay with me, Crystil, we’ll go to Monda,” her father said, much to her relief. “We can oversee the reconstruction of the temple. We should also plan for a way to rebuild our warehouses so we can rebuild our army. I believe some old factories might be largely intact.”

  Crystil still didn’t look like she loved the idea, but Celeste knew the woman would follow the commands on her old boss, no matter how far removed he had gotten from the role of emperor.

  “Understood, sir,” she said as she gently ran her hand over the rifle on her hip.

  “Also, think of it like this,” Celeste added. “If Typhos escapes and is weak, he’s not going to go to Monda. But he might come here, especially when he knows we’ve come to Nubia to try and find him. He’ll know the planet is open. Ideally, we can quell him on Nubia and take him captive, but if we can’t, and he escapes, well, while a weakened Typhos is still going to beat any human one-on-one, he’s not going to beat an entire planet’s worth.”

  “Good thing Crystil’s not human,” Cyrus joked, which made everyone laugh once they saw the grin on his face.

  “Only you, Cyrus,” Crystil said with a wink specifically directed at him.

  You two. I swear…

  “We’ll try and surprise you once more,” Cyrus said. “We’ll come back with our prized captive.”

  Enough. We have to put things into motion.

  “So it’s settled then,” Celeste said, mindful of wasting time. “Crystil and Dad, are you two good with—no, no, hold on. Let me say it. You two will go back to Monda. Rally all of the troops we can and get our factories back up. We have to assume a massive battle is coming. Cyrus and I will go to Nubia and try and stop Typhos. Good?”

  Everyone around her nodded.

  “Celeste,” her father added. “Nubia once had a human settlement. If Typhos is there, it’s long gone, but you may want to see what information you discover from that settlement. You never know what you’ll find.”

  Celeste nodded with a grin.

  “All right guys, we got a plan. Let’s do it.”

  Crystil and her father stood side by side, bringing Celeste back to her younger days when a better-dressed dad walked the palace with Crystil never too far behind. Crystil, too, seemed more relaxed in those days, able to focus on protecting her father from people who wanted to hug him, not people who wanted to kill him. No one I’d trust more with my Dad than her.

  Celeste closed her eyes, told her she loved them both, and then teleported them to Monda, leaving just her and her brother on the peak.

  “You’re trying to usurp the title of emperor from Pops, aren’t you,” Cyrus deadpanned.

  “We do need more empresses and fewer emperors in our lineage,” Celeste joked. “I just know that with what I have, I need to be comfortable taking charge.”

  Cyrus smiled at his sister, moved beyond words.

  “Don’t worry, I won’t boss you around. Besides, we know who the real leader of this group is. The one who has guided us since we woke up on Omega One. Your little lady friend.”

  “Oh whatever,” Cyrus said, his eyes rolling. “We’re just—”

  “Working your way up, I know,” Celeste said. “What are you waiting for, anyways?”

  Cyrus shrugged a couple of times, unable to produce a good answer.

  “If you’re waiting for this battle to end, don’t. What if you die on Nubia? What if she dies on Monda? Don’t waste time, Cyrus. You don’t need to wait for peace or the end of Typhos. I’m supportive of you.”

  “OK,” Cyrus said. Celeste wondered if he would say more, but the growing grin on his face suggested interesting intentions when he next saw Crystil.

  “All right, I’m going to prepare to teleport us. Are you ready?”

  “Always, sis.”

  “I haven’t taken us to Nubia before, so we may have to teleport a few times. I can sense it, though, so we should get close to the source of the energy. And Cyrus.”

  She made sure his eyes had locked with hers before she resumed speaking.

  “Don’t do what you did on Monda. If you have a chance to capture Typhos without killing him, do it.”

  The laughter and jokes faded from Cyrus, but Celeste had no time to analyze his attitude. As long as he listens, it’s good. And I know he won’t rebel against my orders.

  She closed her eyes, held her brother’s hand, and seconds later, felt a blazing heat far hotter than anything she’d ever experienced.

  5

  Typhos sensed the presence of Cyrus and Celeste the instant the two landed on Nubia.

  He bolted out of bed as his adrenaline made him forget the still-healing wounds on his body. He summoned the remaining Kastori to him and ordered them to follow. He led them to the entrance of the base and paused at the doorway.

  “The enemy is approaching,” Typhos sneered. “They wish to claim this planet for themselves and end my life. We cannot allow that to happen under any circumstance. If they come here, fight. I will ensure you are handsomely rewarded when we get off this planet. You don’t even have to kill them. Just prevent them from reaching me.”

  The Kastori all nodded in ackno
wledgment. None of them will survive those two or the destruction of this planet. But as long as they delay them and put up a fight, they will have served their purpose.

  “I have faith that all of you will hold off the siblings. You have served me well, and I believe you will continue to do so. Do not give me reason to doubt my faith.”

  Without waiting for an acknowledgment from his Kastori, Typhos whirled around, shutting the door with his magic and turning back to the dark hallway. They will probably run. They are weak. But as long as they delay the Orthrans…

  Good thing I am not a human who relies on light. My magic will guide me to where I need to go.

  Sparks shot off from crevices and broken machines. Lights flickered in different spots. The lack of anyone present took Typhos back to the darker days of his isolated childhood. At least I had people around then. Here… I have no one. Just as I have my whole life.

  Nonsense. Stop it. That doesn’t matter. Keep going.

  He used his sense powers to walk toward the source of the planet’s power. He could use his magic to see a single room, several hundred feet beneath the surface, that had the same magic symbol engraved as on the peak of Mount Ardor. The room, physically speaking, was barren, an empty cavern surrounded by sand, with only the symbol, no larger than a couple of square feet, marking it as a room of significance. But the magic was so intense that it felt like looking at the sun.

  Push. It is necessary if only to prevent those two from getting the power. If they get it…

  As Typhos carefully sidestepped the wires full of sparks and electrified machinery, he thought about what would happen if Cyrus or Celeste got it. Celeste always spoke of peace, but what good did peace do? Peace existed for years on Anatolus before my rise, and it just masked the tensions my people felt toward the council. We give Celeste what she wants, the cycle repeats itself. Even for a girl as strong in her beliefs as her.

  She is quite the girl. It’s a shame she’s on the other side. If she were with me, we could ensure complete control. No one would rise. Everything would be clear. No one would be subtle. We could bring the salvation I always swore to bring, and I could finally rid myself of this suffering in my head.