Kastori Devastations (The Kastori Chronicles Book 2) (23 page)

I just don’t know. It’s there. But can I execute on it? Do I really want to? I don’t need to… I want to. But I don’t want that pain.

“All I can say, Crystil, is if you do decide to act on your feelings, or you allow Cyrus to, do not hedge. Commit. Be there. Do not do what I did and fail to commit to either side.”

What is she talking about?

“Trying to hedge between two sides only infuriates everyone, and leaves no one happy. For not just Cyrus’ sake, but your’s, you should decide if you wish to see through whatever you two may develop.”

“How soon?” Crystil asked.
I know my answer—now.

But before Erda could respond, the Kastori looked over Crystil’s shoulder. Crystil saw Cyrus right there, but he looked distraught and defeated.
Whatever he faced in his cave, it’s much worse than whatever I saw.

Change the answer. Not now.

“Cyrus?” Crystil asked empathetically.

“I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t kill her. And I don’t regret that.”

46

Cyrus just wanted to sleep. He wanted to put this night behind him, reset reality, and use the rest to differentiate what he’d seen from what he knew.

“Talk to us, Cyrus,” Erda said.

So much for rest.

Wearily, he shuffled his feet forward, so hurt and disturbed by what he’d seen he barely had the energy to trudge to Erda and Crystil. He gazed at Crystil and was both saddened and touched by the level of empathy in her eyes.
If she’s that concerned for me… I guess I look pretty bad.

“I know what you saw,” Erda said, which did not surprise Cyrus. “I warned you before going in that the cave would dive into your mind and pull out your greatest fear. Cyrus, I spoke to Crystil about her scenario in private. Do you wish to have the same?”

“No,” Cyrus said. “What I saw. It’s not going to happen.”

“Cyrus,” Erda said, her voice rising. “If what you saw didn’t scare you and haunt your thoughts, it wouldn’t have happened. But it does frighten you, because you know it’s possible.”

Don’t you dare say that.

His face reflected his thought, his eyes angrily staring down the last true-blooded Kastori on Anatolus.

“You know Typhos can persuade Celeste,” Erda said.

“No,” Cyrus shot back. “My sister, of all of us, is the most loyal to my father and what he stands for. Even more than Crystil, his bodyguard, and I, his heir. I thought that was a weakness for a while, as I felt like she could not move forward, but it’ll serve her well. And she has magic to protect her.”

“Magic won’t protect her from the emotional and spoken power that Typhos has,” Erda said with a surprising amount of anger. “His greatest feat against the Kastori all those years ago was not amassing an army against the council, but in doing so without relying on magic. Everyone I know—myself included—has felt the temptation to join him. Your sister is strong, but she is a prisoner of the most persuasive Kastori. If he wants, he will work her as long as he can and get her to change.”

“Shut up!” Cyrus said. “You don’t know anything about my sister! You only know that she’s half-Kastori. You don’t know what it was like growing up with her. You don’t know what it was like seeing the stands she took, and the beliefs she adopted. I know her better than anyone.”

To Cyrus’ surprise, Erda’s eyes moistened, though tears did not fall.

“I know more than you would think, Cyrus,” she said.

Cyrus bit his lip, trying to calm himself.
I can’t be angry at the truth. As much as I want to. Sucks, but…

“Cyrus, if your sister resists, it’ll be because she did not succumb to the emotion of the moment. It is something that you are doing now, and it’s what you did in the simulation. Emotions can guide us when we don’t know what we need to do. But if you have an objective, Cyrus, your emotions hinder you. I know I’m not the first one to tell you this.”

A quick glance at Crystil’s subtle nodding confirmed that.

“Celeste knows her mission is to not join Typhos. If she lets the emotions take over for her, she’s at serious risk. If she does turn, your objective is to defeat her and kill her in battle. I’m sorry to lay it out so coldly, but this is the truth. You cannot do what you did in the cave.”

“She’s my sister!” Cyrus said. “I am not going to kill my sister. I don’t care if she’s killed all of you and blown up the palace. I am not going to kill my sister. I am not going to descend to that level.”

Erda sighed.

“Do you want to be like me, Cyrus? Do you want to rue your mistakes because you let emotions get in the way of what you already knew was best?”

“What does that mean?”

“It’s irrelevant,” Erda said dismissively.
No, no it’s most certainly not.
“What’s relevant right now is that there’s a very real threat that your sister—”

“Just, stop,” Cyrus said frustrated. “If she does, Crystil, you take care of her. I will choose death over killing my sister. If that’s wrong and that wins the war for Typhos, so be it. I’ll be dead. I won’t care if Typhos conquers all.”

Erda’s eyes went wide.

“How do you think I—”

She paused.

“Typhos is outside the palace. I can sense him. He’s beyond furious.”

All of the frustration and fatigue vanished from Cyrus as he ran up to Erda and put his hand on her shoulder while asking questions.

“At Celeste? Can you see her? Where is she? Dead?”

“I don’t sense her, but I haven’t since they had her captive. That doesn’t mean anything. Typhos… he opened a portal.”

Cyrus looked over at Crystil. Both of them knew what might happen.
Rested or exhausted, we have to get her.

“He’s sending dozens of his men through there. Four guardians left. And…”

She opened her eyes.

“He’s gone. I don’t know how long—”

“Let’s go,” Cyrus said. “If he’s gone two minutes or two days, I don’t care. If he’s as angry as you say he is, it’s at Celeste. He’s gonna kill her when he comes back.”

Erda grimaced, a sign to Cyrus that he had just spoken the truth.

“We should teleport away from the temple. Typhos undoubtedly left a strong watch there, and if we are spotted—”

“That’s fine,” Crystil said, a calming but firm voice. “We sneak in, preemptively kill any magicologists or guardians who could talk to Typhos, get Celeste, and return here.”

“Good,” Cyrus said.

His heart beat so fast it began to hurt, and his stomach filled with nerves. This was the time, and he had no idea when the window of opportunity would shut. It could close on his head, killing him, or on his ankle, torturing him. Both of them, none of them, or only one of them could survive.

But we’re going. No waiting.

Erda put her mask on, and a portal appeared in front of them. Cyrus looked at Crystil, and the two communicated with a simple nod.
No need for telepathy here.

The three went through together, and not even the possibility of his death would stop Cyrus from rescuing his imprisoned sister.

47

Gaius patiently as Typhos marched outside. Using his powers, Gaius watched from one of the guardian’s perspectives as Typhos gave his commands.
If he’s like this at any point, no one can kill him. Not even all of us together. This angry version… it’s terrifying.

But mercifully, the portal opened to Nubia moments later, and the weaker Kastori went first. The guardians followed, and Gaius removed the vision, observing the scene from afar. Typhos paused and looked back at Gaius, who trembled with fear.
He knows. He’s going to come back and kill me and—

Nothing happened. For several minutes, Gaius refused to move or use any magic, fearful that Typhos would sense his intentions and come back just to kill him.

Finally, when the storm settled down, Gaius allowed himself a glimpse. Typhos had left.

It’s time.

First, Gaius removed the storm around the temple, dispersing it in all directions across Capitol City.
Petrus, you’d better come now. You had better hurry up.

Gaius considered whether his plan would work, and he didn’t like the odds.
Any human-Kastori fight ends lopsided. But if it looks like I had nothing to do with it…

He knocked once on the girl’s door.

“Come in,” she said, weak and tired.

“I can’t do that,” Gaius said. “Typhos will sense me coming and kill us. But I want you to know that you have friends who want to rescue you and are on their way.”

A long pause came.
Maybe she doesn’t believe me. Maybe I should just—

“Why don’t you just rescue me yourself?” the girl asked, annoyed.

“I would if I could,” Gaius said
.
“But Typhos has a close eye on me. He will be back here within seconds and kill us both if I break you out. If humans break you out, though, and I am distracted…”

The girl said nothing and Gaius assumed his guardian stance.
She knows. That’s all that matters.

He could sense the congregation of humans in the field. The humans moved purposefully toward the temple.
Good. You’d better take out all of the Kastori in the area. I cannot walk out and be seen helping you—only when Typhos returns, and we have the girl, can we fight.

“What makes you think I would help you?” the girl said, much to the surprise of Gaius, who turned and placed his hand on the door lock… but thought better of it.

“The humans want you to help me, and I would be a better ruler than Typhos.”

“How do I know you didn’t brainwash them?”

Girl’s sharp.

“I can’t,” Gaius answered honestly. “I assume that they will have some wicked things to say about me.”

The girl hesitated to speak but eventually responded.

“I will help you defeat him, but I’m not going to let you ascend to the throne. That belongs to my father.”

“Ahh, daughter of Emperor Orthran,” Gaius said. “Interesting. Fascinating.”

Gaius quickly cast an impenetrable shield on his mind.

“We will break you out, Celeste,” Gaius said. “And we will need you to join me and the humans in fighting Typhos. Can you do that?”

Celeste audibly sighed.

“I guess it would help at the moment. I can’t tell anymore what your intentions are, but it’ll get me out of here.”

Gaius stirred. He sensed two new Kastori appear with a human. He determined that it was not Typhos with more prisoners, and his body relaxed. He reexamined who had arrived, and his smile widened when he figured out who they were.

“You’ll have a bit more help than I realized.”

48

Petrus never knew when the night would provide relief. Some evenings, the magicologists let him rest before the sun had dipped below the horizon. Others, he gave up keeping track of time.

Today’s no different.

The sun had set, and Petrus’ patience wore thin. He had a shovel in his hand and casually, without any effort whatsoever, dug holes—officially, to plant crops.
Just menial work really to tire us out.

Every five seconds, he took a break, wiping his brow, even when it was as dry as the days before Typhos’ arrival.

Then he saw it.

By the temple, like a great hole had formed in the sky, rain no longer fell and lightning no longer struck. It encompassed so much space that Petrus wondered at first if Gaius had gotten rid of the whole storm by mistake. He ditched his shovel and sprinted toward his shed.

“Hey!” a magicologist cried out. Petrus looked back and saw an enemy in white robes and a black mask, and knew the risk of running was worth it. He found the spot where Gaius had smuggled the weapons and shoved the tool cabinet aside. Lance ran into the room seconds later, and Petrus tossed him a Nakar 17—with, much to both men’s joy, a silencer attached.

The magicologist lurched in the room seconds later, and Lance whirled around and shot him in the chest, the rifle producing barely a
pew. T
he magicologist’s body hit the ground. Petrus stood up with his gun and walked over to Lance.

“Do you like Gaius now?”

Lance couldn’t help the smirk that came over his face before replying, “I will once we clear the area.”

The two took separate positions on the ends of the shed and quietly went to work killing the remaining four magicologists. Petrus and Lance waited a few minutes in case reinforcements arrived, but when each checked through their scope, they saw no approaching robed figures. Petrus lowered his gun and swung it over his shoulders.

“It’s time,” he said. “Let’s gather everyone and meet back here.”

Ten minutes later, Petrus, Lance, and four other soldiers congregated at the entrance of the shed, each holding a silenced Nakar 17. There was Trista, a short but strong woman who had served in Commander Bradford’s regime; Garoth, an older gentleman with a thick beard and more military experience than anyone there; Ector, a black man who rarely spoke; and Morian, a man of brown color who had little military experience but the most insatiable drive to reclaim Monda. All four soldiers faced Petrus and Lance.