“Stop!” Typhos screamed, sure he would die.
I pushed it too far. In my quest to kill those I hated, I ended up killing myself with greed being the suicidal weapon. I didn’t need it. I could’ve killed Celeste!
Celeste! Cyrus!
And Erda… I didn’t need this magic.
The pain made it impossible for Typhos to breathe, and he began to feel lightheaded as he lost his senses. Gasping, he grabbed his mask and hurled it to the side, making it easier to breathe but disorienting him even further. The sky was just a sea of blackness with bright, unrefined splotches. He cursed Nubia for bringing him this much pain and began to lose consciousness.
Was it… worth it? Adanus. Aida. Pagus. Everyone…
His vision dimmed.
But then, almost as if it had never happened, the pain stopped.
Slowly, very slowly, Typhos’ vision returned. The storm above him raged no longer, and the hurricane to the south dissipated. The fires still burned, and the forest remained destroyed, but no further damage was delivered. Typhos had acquired control of his magic back, and he breathed slowly on the ground for several seconds to ensure a surprise second onslaught of magical energy would not come.
He deliberately counted to sixty seconds before he even attempted to rise. Lying on his back, he rolled on his stomach, brought his knees forward, and stood.
His legs felt wobbly, and he was sick. Seconds later, he vomited and came back down to his knees. He gagged and gasped for air. Is it… is the pain over?
The acute torture had ended. Even after he vomited, it did not return, nor did it come during the expulsion. But the massive energy had taken its toll, and Typhos would need time to recover.
But as he laid back down on the ground, he smiled with nefarious intent. He had survived the absorption of an entire planet’s power, and in doing so ensured that when he got Tapuya and Vostoka, he would be able to handle it better. Even in his weakened physical state, he still had immense powers. He concentrated and, with the planet aiding him, brought up to him two ursus. He killed them instantly and cooked them, supplying him all of the food he would need for the next several days.
My power… it is no longer as dependent on my physical state as it was before. Or, if it is, it has become so great that when I am healthy, I can destroy anything.
Anything at all…
He searched inside himself. He recalled the power he had read about in Fargus’ tent. “Ultimus.” The power to ignore any elemental protection and destroy anything in the area—including the planet. His void spells distorted reality. His new spell could destroy it entirely.
He did not yet have the power to call forth more creatures. That would require a heavy dose of red magic that he knew he could get at Tapuya. But that would have to wait. As long as the Orthrans don’t make it there first. And if they do, I will destroy the planet from afar. If they go for Vostoka, let them have it. I won’t need to heal when I have the power that I possess.
He crawled slowly to the edge, overlooking the planet. For fun, he cast another lightning spell over the forest. It delivered such damage that it wiped out nearly a third of the trees that he could see.
“Unlimited power,” he said. “The power to destroy those who bring me pain. The power to kill Cyrus and Celeste.”
8
Cyrus slowly walked toward the rusted and damaged Imperial Palace, formerly his home, as Celeste worked to calm herself from the damage that Typhos had inflicted on Nubia. As much as he envied his sister for the magical powers that she possessed, it was moments like these that he appreciated not being able to sense as she did. He liked to keep war simple. Kill the enemy, save your allies, and forget about those you can’t help.
I guess Crystil’s had some kind of impact on me. It’s the same mentality she started with.
He paused at the steps leading to the entrance and nodded to a guard to get his father and Crystil. While the guard went behind, he looked back at Capitol City—or the remains of it. Whatever buildings remained looked excavated and charred, and in spaces where they should have been buildings, empty space existed. He looked at the wall and saw humans and Kastori alike working to repair the damage wrought over the past two years by Typhos. Probably some of these Kastori who helped damage the place. Doesn’t matter. As long as they’re willing to help now.
Besides, they’ll help us get ahead of schedule. Most important thing isn’t here, anyways. It’s to get our defenses back up. And we won’t be fighting an army of Kastori this time. It’ll just be the one evil threat to us all. And whatever monsters he throws this way.
Why are we even here, then?
“Son.”
Cyrus turned to his father, and though his father had his arms open for a hug, both men’s expressions remained dour.
“I take it—”
“Typhos destroyed Nubia,” Cyrus said. “Celeste is taking it pretty hard.”
“I’m sorry, son,” Emperor Orthran said. “We are making decent progress here. The wall will be—”
“Pops, forgive me for the blunt intrusion, but I think we should forget this place.”
His father seemed taken aback by the statement, but not offended. When he did not respond, Cyrus continued.
“This is a wonderful palace, and someday, we’ll reside in it again and rule Monda the way we did before. But it’s nothing more than a symbol of our rule. We don’t need symbols. We need protection. We need people to work. The people don’t care about us guiding them from a palace. They’d probably accept our leadership from inside one of the slave sheds that they used to live in. Time we spend working here is not time spent working on our survival.”
His father listened contemplatively. Halfway through his speech, Crystil approached from behind the emperor, keeping a respectful but noticeable presence. When he finished, Crystil gave a warm, happy smile. She’s been thinking the same thing. He kept his neutral expression but messaged her his gratitude.
His father held up a hand and walked to the bottom of the stairs, looking up at the palace from a visitor’s point of view. Cyrus didn’t have any idea which way his father would go, for he knew how much he loved his home.
“I hope you don’t mind sleeping in a warehouse, son,” the Emperor said with a smile.
“The nearest one is about two miles north of here,” Celeste interrupted, walking to the side of their father.
It’s amazing. She stands with the same authority now as he does. And two years ago, she can barely look me in the eye because she would get so nervous.
“I have data here that can give us the kind of boost that we need to fight whatever Typhos creates. Data collected from Nubia. Dad, you were right. The settlement there did help us.”
“What kind of data?” Crystil asked.
Celeste shrugged.
“We just grabbed whatever we could. But the citizens of Nubia figured out how to incorporate magic into their technology. They had labs at the complex that showed how to imbue their weapons with magic, much like Reya for me and… Mom for you, Crystil.”
I don’t know how she does it. I don’t ever think I can look at Erda that way.
“Guys, let’s go. The warehouse will have a room where we can analyze this stuff.”
She gave a beat to make sure everyone understood, and then turned and marched to the warehouse. Cyrus turned to Crystil, who shrugged with an innocent smile. He turned back to see his father following his sister, and he groaned as he trotted ahead.
“I swear Pop’s going to make her the emperor,” he mumbled to himself.
He caught up to his sister moments later, who turned to him with a serious expression.
“As soon as we’re done analyzing this data, we need to make plans to go to Vostoka.”
“The ice planet?”
Celeste nodded, picking up her pace.
“But it’s so nice and warm here!” he said, trying to provide some levity. “I want to go to the beach instead. Why don’t we go to Tapuya where it�
�s tropical—”
“After Vostoka,” Celeste said. “Work on Vostoka, and we’ll get a ‘vacation’ at Tapuya. That work for you?”
“I mean, I don’t really like to work for my vacations, let’s be honest, I’m the son of an emperor and used to just traveling wherever I want.”
Celeste looked at Cyrus with a serious expression and then paused to laugh. Cyrus maintained his overly serious face for hilarity’s sake, and Celeste continued to laugh, even as their father and Crystil passed by.
“I’m going to teach you how to teleport when we get done with Tapuya so that you can get out of my hair some,” she said.
“Oh, after? Wow, you make it difficult, Celeste,” Cyrus said, the two resuming their walk forward.
“I mean, I would, but, you know, mission stuff, saving the universe, saving our brother.”
“Yeah, right, saving our brother,” Cyrus snorted, without laughing.
Celeste looked at him perturbed, but Cyrus refused to look back at her, knowing if he did, he would see her scar, remember who had delivered it, and anger would cloud his decision making and thought process even further. He’s the enemy, we kill him if we see him. Easy.
The two walked in awkward silence for several more minutes as the warehouse came into view about a half mile out. Crystil and Emperor Orthran had gotten far enough ahead that Cyrus saw them walk in before he turned to Celeste.
“So, Vostoka. What’s the plan?”
“I need to get white magic from the planet. I know how to heal, but I’m not great at protecting. If I can learn some of that magic, then I can at least neutralize Typhos’ powers.”
Wait, we’re going to destroy a world too?
“I won’t blow up Vostoka the way Typhos did Nubia. I don’t need to. I just need some of its powers. There’ll be some impact on the planet, unfortunately. But if I don’t take something, well, Typhos will win. And I don’t think, based on my sensing, that there’s a whole lot of life out there.”
“Humans, no?”
“Maybe. I didn’t sense much. If there are humans there probably is just a small settlement, nothing more.”
Cyrus shrugged. I’ll go wherever we need to go. I know what my role is. Support and protect her. She’s the only one who can defeat Typhos. I would just get in her way.
Sucks. I want to be the hero and get the girl.
Guess I’ll only get to do half of those goals.
He smirked and refused to answer Celeste’s inquiry about his facial expression as the two walked inside the warehouse. Humans rapidly worked to assemble more weapons, having rebooted much of the machinery inside and collected the resources needed, but without the aid of the Kastori. Sparks flew from individual weapons, the ceiling stretched up several hundred feet, and numerous voices shouted. Cyrus wondered who had directed the humans toward a specific purpose, and then laughed when he figured it out.
Crystil. Of course.
He and his sister went into a small room in the middle of a wall in the plant. His sister grabbed all of the devices she had stored in her boot out, placing about four different pieces on a table in front of her. The first piece provided no information, seemingly damaged beyond repair.
But the second one proved promising. It showed how the tanks on Nubia had worked, collecting magical energy emitted by the planet, converting it into fuel for their various machines, and then recycling it once it finished.
“Replace the planet with our Kastori, and it’s the same idea,” Crystil said. “Maybe not as powerful, but we don’t need to run an entire planet’s worth of civilization. We just need to power some weapons.”
“Bigger weapons,” Celeste said, looking outside. “Crystil, guns and rifles aren’t going to do it. We need to rebuild our aerial fleet.”
Crystil grimaced, and even as someone who had never worked as an engineer, Cyrus knew building those kinds of ships couldn’t just happen in a couple of days. I think.
“How many ships?”
“As many as we can build as quickly as we can,” Celeste said. “We already know what Typhos can do when he created Calypsius and the Caliphae. Now that he’s alone on Anatolus and resting within the peak, he’s going to have more time to create things. If he gets to Tapuya before we do… I don’t want to imagine what kind of monsters he can create.”
“I get it,” Crystil said, assuming her commander’s stance. “I will order our team to do what needs to be done.”
“Use the Kastori,” Emperor Orthran said. All eyes, including Cyrus’, turned to him. “This talks about how we can embed their magic into our weapons. But that doesn’t mean they can’t also help build our weapons. It will make the process go by much quicker if we use magic to weld materials together and build weapons than relying on our slower-paced technology.”
Cyrus smirked and pointed with a chuckle at his Pops.
“I see now where Celeste gets her intelligence. And where I get my good looks.”
Celeste let out a loud burst of laughter. Crystil blushed, refusing to comment. His father simply shook his head and was left speechless.
“But seriously, that’s a good idea. I can—”
“No, I’ll go get the Kastori,” Crystil said. “I’m overseeing the production here. If I want the Kastori’s help, I should go and get them. Cyrus. It’s OK.”
“I’m counting on it, Crystil.”
“You mean Celeste is counting on it,” Crystil said with a laugh, meant to tease but instead leaving Cyrus feeling a bit demeaned. “I’ll be back.”
She left the room, jogging back to the palace.
“She does know one of us could have teleported, right?” Cyrus asked, less with humor and more with annoyance.
“It’s the difference of saving like twenty minutes, son,” Emperor Orthran said. “Cyrus, it’s OK.”
It’s…
“OK,” Cyrus said, preferring to let the issue go. “Celeste. I’m ready for Vostoka whenever you are.”
His sister looked surprised, having expected Cyrus to rest some. I’m just saying this more to get out of here than I am ready to go. I should… I should just go take it easy.
“Actually, no,” he said. “Sorry. Stressed. Go in the morning?”
Celeste nodded, and Cyrus used the chance to take his leave. He walked out of the warehouse, took a seat on the grass, and took a deep breath.
You’ll still be the Emperor someday. Calm down. Celeste has the most power. She’s the one who fights Typhos. She should be in charge. She should be.
It’s just drastically different than the previous twenty or so years. No choice but to get used to it.
9
The Kastori, as expected, came without complaint to the warehouse with Crystil. They did not have the strength to teleport, but they all followed her and kept pace. The sun had just begun its descent below the horizon when Crystil reached the front of the warehouse. Emperor Orthran stood talking with a serious face to a fellow soldier she immediately recognized from two years back, Garrus, a broad-shouldered man with short black hair and scars on his face from his time in slavery.
Crystil approached slowly, waiting for an opening to speak to the Emperor. He waved her over as soon as he saw her, and Garrus gave her a broad smile. He quickly embraced Crystil as the two exchanged pleasantries.
“Garrus arrived just a few minutes ago,” the emperor said. “He says all surviving humans in the area—a few thousand—are prepared to do whatever it takes to serve the mission.”
“Excellent,” Crystil said, although, in the back of her mind, she felt that if humanity had dropped to just a few thousand, they had suffered far worse than she had imagined. “I brought with me about two dozen Kastori, former slaves of Typhos whom he abandoned. I trust all of them, Garrus, and so should you.”
“If you command it, that works for me!” Garrus said, punctuated with a sharp, deep laugh.
Crystil smiled but did some mental calculations quickly. She had no idea how many ships the Kastori could help build,
but if they went by human speed alone, they could build one every three days. Of course, that assumed people worked the entire day and night, with someone manning every station at all times, and no mistakes happened. Add the Kastori, and it probably still comes out to one every three days. Really hope we have the time to build. Really hope Typhos doesn’t recover quickly.
“We need to build as many fighters as we can for as long as Typhos lives. Cyrus and Celeste have a plan to bring him down, but he’s going to throw some ugly beasts our way, and we need to be ready. Garrus, I want you to help oversee the construction of these ships. I want us to work at a pace of one every three days. Can you make that happen?”
Garrus’ eyes belied his beliefs. Crystil knew he thought it couldn’t happen. So she turned to the Emperor.
“I just want to make sure, Emperor Orthran, if you approve. I know you said I’m in charge of the operation, but these are your people, and I just want to make sure I have permission—”
“Permission?” the Emperor said with a warm smile. “Crystil, it is I who should be asking permission from you. Yes, you have permission. Garrus, I have faith you can pull this off.”
He’s not going to refuse the Emperor. Not that he would refuse me, either.
“Yes, Emperor. Yes, Crystil.”
Crystil turned to the Kastori and commanded them to follow Garrus into the warehouse. She noted how much more relaxed the Kastori looked. She could not begin to imagine what it was like working for the short-tempered, violent psychopath that was Typhos.
“Crystil,” Emperor Orthran said, and when Crystil turned to him, she was shocked to see the contrast. If the Kastori looked younger and fresher, then the years had aged the Emperor. “I have always appreciated your service to me. I know that you are our finest and our strongest. From this day until we defeat Typhos, I am in service to you.”
Kastori Restorations (The Kastori Chronicles Book 4) Page 4