What?
“I am serious, Crystil. I am old, aged rapidly by what Typhos has done to me, and tired. Though I am not ill and not in any serious danger of dying, the end is closer than the beginning.”
“Sir,” Crystil said, aghast at the notion. “I… I…”
Crystil had no words in response to her leader. Leading Cyrus and Celeste on Anatolus against one monster was one thing. To lead all of humanity of Monda against the greatest evil in the universe, an evil that could spawn even more monsters… she honestly didn’t know if she could perform well in such a role. She was a soldier and a fighter, and she was incredibly useful in those positions. But as a commander, she had concerns from her performance guiding Cyrus and Celeste on Omega One that those skills were not as good as she had thought them to be. She had lost her temper, kept confidential secrets that didn’t need to be secrets, and had nearly pushed Cyrus away when they desperately needed him.
“Consider it an order, if it will make you assume the duty faster,” Emperor Orthran said. “And your first job, as commander of this entire operation, is to tell me what to do.”
“Sir?”
Is this even real anymore? Is Typhos controlling him or playing some trick? Is the Emperor really trusting me to do all of this?
“I know how to fly our fighters and am trained as a soldier, something my father made me do before I could claim the throne. He believed an emperor could not command his people if he did not properly understand how those people worked and have the respect of his military. I have never had to put those skills to use, but I am not going to sit by and watch people die. I will go in and fight.”
“Sir—”
“Crystil, just call me Caius for now. Tell me what to do.”
Well, I see where Cyrus gets his stubbornness from. This is insane. But if it inspires the people…
“Very well, sir. Caius, sir. Do you need any training to refresh your memory?”
“Training? No. But I wish to join others in rebuilding fighters. Anything I can do to help build, I will do. But not until tomorrow morning. I must say goodbye to my children before they go to Vostoka.”
“Of course, si—Caius, yes, Caius.”
The Emperor gave a warm smile and a short laugh as he bowed to Crystil. Crystil instinctively bowed back. He told her he didn’t have to, and she just blushed, still not comfortable with being superior to Emperor Orthran. Or calling him by his first name. What is this?!?
Yet she could not help but have all the respect on Monda for the way he conducted himself. If the people had even considered slacking off, the sight of their leader welding materials together and carrying supplies across a warehouse would get them back in line. I only hope I lead by example as well as you do, Emperor. When the day comes that we need to fight, I will be there with you in the sky. You can count on that.
Crystil followed Caius back into the warehouse. Inside, she saw Garrus laughing with the Kastori as he explained something. The sight warmed her. Here I was, thinking all the other humans would react as I first did. I thought these would be like the magicologists. Turns out, there’s really only one magicologist left.
And all of us—humans, Kastori, royalty, soldiers—are going to beat him.
10
Cyrus couldn’t sleep at all.
He had trouble wrapping his head around the fact that his role was being reduced—at least, in my head—as time went by. When they left Monda, he felt like a clinger, not supporting Crystil and not making their relationships more diplomatic like Celeste did. When they fought Calypsius, he didn’t pilot the ship, nor did he uncover his identity as a Kastori. And when Typhos came, it was Crystil who had warded him off long enough for them to escape and it was Crystil who had shot Typhos after he had nearly killed his sister.
He gave up on rest when light gleamed through his window. He walked out to the main warehouse and listened to the shouting of people and the sound of ships coming together. He glanced left and saw his reflection on glass. Despite being twenty-five years old, he felt he looked like he was forty. His hair had gotten grayer, the lines on his eyes had become more defined, and his health had become worse. He stressed out more easily, recalling the memory of his sister’s mortal wound too easily and frequently. He snapped at inconsequential matters—last night—more often. He began to have more understanding of Crystil and her early days on Omega One and understood how easy it was to break.
I’m probably closer looking in age to Pops than I am to Celeste, he thought to himself.
A loud clang came from somewhere far away, followed by numerous curses. Cyrus muttered a curse to himself too, wondering both how they could defeat Typhos and how they could build enough ships—if there is a such thing—to defeat whatever Typhos attacked with.
“Cyrus.”
The soft voice of his sister whirled him around. She brushed aside her hair, concern in her eyes. She looked like she hadn’t slept much either.
“You don’t look so good. Are you OK?”
“I’m—”
Just be honest. It’s your sister.
“I’ve been better,” he said. “I feel kind of periphery in this whole deal, you know? Like in every situation we run into, I feel like I’m not the one who plays the biggest role. That’s just—”
“Cyrus,” Celeste said, interrupting. Cyrus bit his lip. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have stopped you. Continue.”
It’s hard to be jealous when she’s like that.
“It’s just hard, because my whole life, most of the attention has been on me. People love paying attention to me, either because of my joking nature or because of who I was and who I would become someday. And now it’s like… Typhos didn’t just destroy most of this world and Anatolus. It’s like he also killed my identity.”
Celeste didn’t say anything, but Cyrus knew she was deep in thought, a sight that gave him the patience to wait for her to speak.
“First of all, Cyrus, you aren’t periphery in any of this. You’re the one who rescued Crystil and I that one night on Anatolus. You’re the one who led the charge to rescue me from prison. Maybe you don’t have the magic I do, but who cares? I can’t win this battle alone.”
“I guess you’re right,” Cyrus said, the last point the most critical to him. “And I guess it’s all ego, really. I don’t like admitting that, even though I have a big ego. I know logically the most important thing to do is crush Typhos and bring peace back to both worlds, but…”
“But you want to feel like you had the biggest part.”
She always gets right to the point.
“Cyrus, if we win, the story is not going to be ‘Celeste saves the world, Cyrus helps.’ It’s going to be ‘the Orthrans save the world.’ No, you’re not going to play the biggest part. But you are not going to play the smallest part, either. You’re going to play an equal part.”
At that moment, the two of them saw Crystil walking toward one of the shells of a ship, still in the process of being built. She grabbed some tools and joined two humans and a Kastori in building the ship.
“Besides, you may yet have a bigger part with someone else in our group.”
“I—”
But Cyrus blushed, and Celeste laughed, bringing some much-needed levity to the situation. May yet. I could already have, but probably for the best we didn’t. Crystil saw them both and waved, and the two waved back, Cyrus meekly and Celeste eagerly. Celeste saw her brother’s weak wave and laughed again.
“We can talk more as we go, but are you good? And tell me honestly.”
Cyrus gave a slight smirk.
“I’ll get there. I believe I can get there.”
Then he chuckled.
“It’s too bad I’ll probably freeze to death on Vostoka. But on the flip side, maybe if I freeze to death, I can finally catch up on the sleep I haven’t gotten in the last couple of weeks.”
“It’s too bad we don’t have time to put you in two-year hibernation again,” Celeste said with a wry smile, which
brought a similar response from Cyrus. “I wish I could say that you could get some sleep. But…”
“I know,” Cyrus said. Typhos won’t let us sleep. We have to bring the battle to him by making Celeste more powerful before it is too late.
“They’re getting us the thickest clothing possible,” she said. “Clothing specifically designed for cold weather, high-wind environments. They haven’t been used in some time, but it’s there.”
“Good,” Cyrus said. “The Winter Hunting simulation will finally pay off. And I promise not to shoot at the largest gigantes before we’re ready.”
Both of them laughed at the memory, most especially Cyrus since he no longer had the pain that accompanied the end of that simulation.
“Far as the planet goes, do we have any intel on the planet at all?” he asked.
Celeste shook her head.
“I really don’t know anything,” she said. “I saw what Typhos showed me. He showed me a planet that is all snow. It has one distant sun, close enough to make the temperatures tolerable during the day, but when the night comes, it becomes a frozen block of ice. We have people there, Dad said so, but we haven’t heard from those people in years. Maybe they tried to reach us during the two and a half years that Typhos ruled this planet, and that’s how Typhos knows.”
“Doubt it,” Cyrus said. “Typhos is too powerful to have to rely on human minds. I’ll bet you more than anything he sensed those worlds a long time ago and has had his eye on them since that time.”
Celeste nodded.
“Are you teleporting us?”
“That is the plan. When we’re all equipped, we’re going to go immediately. I will sense the location and try and go to where the human base is so we have something to go off of, but after that, we are on our own. The human base really may not even have anything, but I figure it’s as good a place to start as any. We have to find the source of the energy, which is supposedly the coldest spot on the planet.”
“Works for me,” Cyrus said. He saw his father approaching Crystil. Pops pointed to the two of them and began walking to the siblings. Cyrus nodded to Celeste, and the two walked to meet them halfway. “Hopefully works for them, too.”
“Unfortunately, there’s not much choice in that,” Celeste said, much to the shock of Cyrus. “Cyrus, this part of the mission is all us. Dad can’t help us, Crystil can’t help us, at least not on our journey to rescue Typhos.”
“You mean kill Typhos.”
“He’s your brother.”
“And the man who killed Erda and nearly you.”
Celeste scowled, but Cyrus wasn’t about to back down from that point. I can’t believe she really wants to save him. She’s either the most compassionate person in the universe or the most insane. I wonder if the void still has an effect on her. Possible.
“Are you two leaving soon?” his father said as he approached.
“Yes,” Celeste said.
“I came to say goodbye then,” the Emperor said. “I will be expecting you two back. I am going to stay here to help build ships as we need them, and giving all of my energy into creating them.”
“Sounds good,” Celeste said.
It truly was a new world, thought Cyrus, where Celeste would affirm their father’s position rather than ask to do whatever made their father the safest and most secure. He took a look at his father and saw the eyes of a man who was comfortable with that. It almost seemed like he wanted them to become more assertive, and to be willing to take charge of the empire and, maybe, the throne. He looked much older than Cyrus remembered him, but then again, Cyrus himself looked older. Only Celeste looked about the same as she had when she started. Maybe there’s something to the whole forgiveness and letting go of anger idea.
“We’ll be fine,” Celeste added. “Dad, we’ll be back in one piece. We promise. Let us know if there is anything we can do to help when we get back.”
With that, they embraced tightly, the two holding each other close. Cyrus looked over to Crystil, who gave a warm smile, and he walked over to her slowly.
“Girl’s grown up quite a bit, huh?”
“In some ways, past us,” Crystil said. “I never thought she would turn out like this. I know you didn’t.”
“But I take it I turned out exactly as you anticipated?”
Crystil playfully pushed Cyrus away, jokingly cursing at him before he came back and squeezed her tight, gently rubbing her back as he hugged her.
“Don’t do anything stupid,” she said as she pulled back. “I know you. I have to tell you that every time.”
“And I’ll forget every time,” Cyrus said, producing an eye-roll from Crystil before a gentle laugh.
Cyrus went up to his father and embraced him tightly.
“You sure about going to help the others?” Cyrus said.
“My role as emperor is to lead the people, son. The people need to be led by example for a great battle that is coming, so that is what I’ll do.”
“Good deal, Pops,” Cyrus said as the two laughed and embraced once more.
“Besides, Crystil is now in charge of this mission.”
“Her?” Cyrus said in mock disbelief, drawing a laugh from his father.
Cyrus and Celeste quickly ran into an equipment room, where someone had left them the clothing they would need for Vostoka and their swords. When Cyrus equipped the three layers of clothing and goggles over his eyes, he felt he left no skin exposed and was already starting to sweat in the mild temperatures of Monda.
Cyrus looked at his sister, who motioned for him to join her at the front of the warehouse, where they would teleport. He took one last glance at his father and Crystil. The former had the look of someone who knew his children would return. The latter had the eyes of…
A romantic fire.
“Let’s do it,” Cyrus said before he could reconsider his decision to move.
He closed his eyes and felt the teleportation feeling embrace his body.
After a few seconds, even with the thick layers of clothing on, Cyrus thought he would indeed freeze to death.
11
When Crystil saw Cyrus vanish, her gut twisted. She knew he’d come back. But one day, he won’t. He’ll do something just a bit outside the lines…
Hopefully, Celeste will keep him in line.
“Crystil!”
The loud shout of Garrus shook the commander out of her emotional funk. She turned to the soldier, who had with him a young boy, probably no older than sixteen. Garrus had the boy tightly in his grip, with an annoyed expression on both of their faces.
“This boy here tried to take out some long-held anger on our Kastori,” he said. “What do you recommend we do as punishment?”
I should’ve known this would happen. We can’t all just forget about the past. It’s too hard.
“Crystil,” the Emperor said. “If I may. I suspect this boy is not the only one who harbors strong feelings toward the Kastori. Hearing words from you may help tensions.”
Crystil turned back to the boy, who had his head down but anger written all over it.
“What’s your name?” she asked him.
The boy did not respond, instead appearing to pout weakly. Crystil’s anger initially flared up, but she reminded herself to stay calm and not let her emotions get the best of herself.
“May I please have your name?” she said, trying to eliminate all traces of impatience in her voice.
“Aedan,” he said.
“Aedan, why did you go after the Kastori?”
“Because the magicologists killed my parents!” he shouted, the words seeming to echo around the room.
Crystil breathed slowly as she tried to dispel her anger. She had to remind herself that she, too, had lost loved ones to the enemy. She, too, had hated the Kastori for a long time, and still referred to Typhos as a magicologist.
But she had eventually turned that hatred into understanding.
She looked at Garrus and at the Emperor.
&n
bsp; “Gather everyone in front of the warehouse. All Kastori, all humans. I need to address everyone before we move forward. Take them off work. We can afford ten minutes of inactivity to make sure more strife doesn’t happen. Aedan, stay with me.”
Garrus released the boy to Crystil. The soldier, the Emperor, and the commander all went different directions, calling out to different sections of the warehouse to convene at the front. While doing so, she carried on her conversation with Aedan.
“What happened to your parents?”
“They were in their shed when it got burned down by an angry magicologist,” he said, his voice quiet but full of vitriol.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Crystil said, though the boy gave no response. “I, too, lost loved ones. My husband died at the hands of the magicologists.”
For the first time since she had taken him, the boy looked into her eyes. She saw eyes that looked on the verge of tears, and they brought back her own strong emotions.
“But the thing to understand, Aedan, is that just because someone can cast a spell, it doesn’t make them a magicologist. A Kastori is our friend. A Kastori is like a human who happens to have the power of magic instead of the power of technology. They are different but in a lot of ways they are the same. A magicologist is someone who uses that spell for evil purposes. There were a lot of magicologists in the past two years here, including, I’ll be honest, some who are here now.”
“I know,” Aedan fumed.
“But they can change just like we can. There’s only one magicologist left. His name is Typhos, and we are preparing to do battle with him. There are dozens of Kastori here. They want to help us. They do not want to change how we live. They want us to live in peace, and we want them to live in peace.”
Crystil could tell, as she looped back toward the entrance of the warehouse, that she was not going to convert Aedan into a friend of the Kastori. But if she could at least contain his anger through their conversation and her upcoming speech, she would consider that victory enough for the remainder of their battle against Typhos.
Kastori Restorations (The Kastori Chronicles Book 4) Page 5