Kastori Devastations (The Kastori Chronicles Book 2) (9 page)

“If nothing else, having Crystil here would make things much easier,” Petrus said to fill the silence. “I don’t think anyone else in the army scored as many victories as she did.”

“Hah,” Lance said, but he did not seem dismissive so much as wistful. “Crystil Bradford. Youngest there ever was, but man, I’d follow her into a swamp full of nakar if she commanded it. I never went into battle thinking we’d lose with her guidance.”

“Indeed, she fought as much as any soldier, rare for a general.”

“True. Very true.”

Lance’s voice trailed off, and Petrus sensed equally ill feelings toward the former bodyguard of the emperor.

“But she left too. She always told us never to leave a man behind, and yet she was on the ship with the emperor’s kids. That’s hard for me to look past, Petrus. It’s gotta be hard for you too.”

“It is,” Petrus lied.
Be practical, Lance. If she ever came back, we would all file rank behind her and do whatever she says. She would know how to handle the magicologists better than anyone.
“But in the end, I’d still follow her.”

Lance sighed and gave a weak smile as he cleared his throat.

“I would too. But as soon as the battle was over…”

Petrus knew he couldn’t criticize her. Lance had too much respect for Crystil to say anything more.

“It’s a moot point anyways, Petrus. I think we need to strike at Typhos soon. He’ll be distracted, and we can ambush, at worst, the guardians and leave him by himself.”

“Do you know where the old factories are?”

“Yeah. There’s one about five miles south of here. I don’t know what state it’s in, but the weapons wouldn’t be on the main floor of the warehouse. They’d be buried somewhere deeper. I say we wait a few days in case Gaius has anything, get three more people, and the five of us plan an ambush of the palace.”

Petrus loved the idea and gave his nodding approval.

“One step closer to better lives,” Petrus said.

“Or an eternal slumber,” Lance said.

14

The fear which widened Erda’s eyes seemed greater than anything Celeste had ever sensed from the chief of the Kastori.
She was calm against Calypsius, and never that emotionally high or low since. But now… she’s mortified.

“Are you sure, Celeste?” Erda asked, her voice shaky.

“I’m positive, Erda. He is coming.”

“Celeste, I need you to be sure that this is the case. We have no room for error.”

She wants to believe it’s not true. Anything to avoid having to face this.

“I promise you, Erda. I promise. We all need to prepare to fight or run somewhere safe. Typhos is definitely coming.”

Erda grimaced and sighed as she folded her hands. Celeste wondered if she would have to go and order the Kastori herself to prepare. She’d never seen Erda this emotionally paralyzed.

“Celeste,” she said, very firmly but also very coldly. “I need you to tell me exactly what you saw. Tell me everything you saw.”

Celeste swore Erda choked on her next word.

“Everything.”

What… what’s going on? What happened? Does she feel that bad about not noticing Typhos before?

“OK,” Celeste said after a quick gulp, and she recounted everything up to the army of magicologists lining up in the temple gardens.

“He doesn’t have that kind of an army,” Erda said, which to Celeste should’ve sounded hopeful but instead seemed resigned. “He doesn’t need one. If we don’t prepare, he could come here himself and kill everyone.”

Get ready, Celeste. Get Cyrus ready. Get Crystil to safety. Erda can’t do anything here.

“That’s not everything, though.”

Celeste bit her lip, and Erda’s folding arms told Celeste she had to speak now. She could not hide this truth.

“He ended it with something that seemed from the future, Erda. His sword was inches from your throat, at the top of Mount Ardor. Can he do that? Can a Kastori see into the future?”

Erda seemed too disturbed to answer, and for many seconds, Celeste just silently waited. She glanced at Cyrus and Crystil, who were approaching from the far side of the outpost. She held out her hand to signal for them to wait, and they sat by the water ditch.

“I have never heard of anything quite like that,” Erda said. “Unfortunately, that does not mean it is impossible. And if it was, indeed, a vision of the future, then we are in dreadful shape. Typhos’ greatest weakness was always his red magic, and if he has the capability to surpass all known red magic…”

She let her voice trail off.
Then we can’t fight. We can only flee until we get tired of running or they catch us.

“I always knew this day might come. The day when he would reach the pinnacle of his powers. He left for Monda at a young age, barely an adult, but he is now approaching the age when his father peaked. I think Typhos would love nothing more than to displace his parents as the most powerful Kastori that ever lived.”

Celeste sighed but found that interesting.
So he’s not just psychotic. Typhos has emotional weak points too. He could be… could he be persuaded?

“We cannot win this battle without rallying everyone.”

Celeste looked back at the town, and though Cyrus and Crystil watched intently, no one else seemed aware of the imminent danger. People laughed. The sounds of eating, kissing and conversation filled their ears. No one cared for anything other than the present.

A beautiful time for peace, but the worst sounds with death on our doorstep.

“But I fear the people will have no interest in fighting,” Erda said.

“Please, Erda. I know what I saw, and it doesn’t end well. We have to prepare. Or we have to evacuate. Please!”

“We will try, that I know. But Celeste, you have to remember, we have been hiding from and fighting Calypsius for close to two decades when you guys arrived. We all suffered from the monster. If you ask them to prepare to fight the creator of Calypsius, I worry many would just rather live out their lives and die when he comes.”

“What?”

“Think about it, Celeste, aren’t you tired too?”

I am. The threat of the magicologists, there since I was just a child. Always wondering if Dad would get hurt. Flying away. Dad’s death. Calypsius. Even Cyrus and Crystil fighting between each other.

But…

“Just because I’m tired… I can’t stop. Not as long as people I love like Cyrus and Crystil are still here.”

Erda gave a weary smile and put her hand on the young girl.

“I admire your resolve, and I sense it from your brother and commander. They, too, will fight with you until the very end. But my people believe they have fought to the very end and do not wish to be surprised that it’s not the real end.”

“Will you talk to them?” Celeste begged. “Please. Just… try and reach them. You’re right, I sense weariness. But you’re their leader. You have to try.”

Erda continued her smile, but it seemed to take on a new dimension—sadness.

“If you knew what kind of leader I’ve been, Celeste, you would never follow me. But I understand what you are saying. I will do what I can.”

“I’ll talk to Cyrus and Crystil,” Celeste said, and she left in a cloud of thought.
What kind of leader she’s been? She’s been a great leader. I don’t see anyone here who hates her or looks at her with disgust… she’s like Crystil. Too hard on herself, too high expectations. Never saw it until now.

She came to Cyrus and Crystil close to each other, sitting side by side, but both of them watching her.

“Sis?” Cyrus said, standing up. “You OK?”

Celeste didn’t hide her fear. She shook her head no.

“I saw Typhos, and I saw his plans to come here. We have to get ready for battle, all of us.”

“We’re always ready,” Crystil said.

“I think you might be alone in that category,” Cyrus said. “Well, we’re ready. I’m ready. As ready as can be. But…”

His voice trailed off, and the three of them looked at people stumbling toward the gold tent. Some were drunk, while others seemed buzzed off of the person next to them. No one looked ready, and no one seemed interested in preparing.

“Erda’s the only one who’s ready for a battle like this,” Celeste said. “And if it’s just the four of us… we can’t win.”

15

How can you help? Think. What can you do?

Crystil struggled for answers as the Kastori lined up in rows in front of Erda’s golden tent.
Can’t use magic. Have a sniper rifle I could use. Sword won’t do much good in this spot against magicologists.

“Crystil,” Cyrus said, suddenly snapping her out of her thoughts. “We’re going over to Erda. She’s about to speak, and Celeste says she wants us there.”

“OK,” she said. “Let’s go to the back.”

“No,” Cyrus said. “Like, she wants us to stand behind her.”

Crystil followed behind Cyrus, and the two of them stood a couple of feet to the side of the carpet which extended into the golden tent. Celeste stood on the left side of the tent, the two of them on the right. Crystil peered over at Celeste and, for the fleeting moment before Erda walked out, felt proud. Celeste hadn’t just turned into a great soldier—she’d morphed into a leader.
I wish she’d stop showing her concern, but all things considered, she’s awesome.

She’s going to need to be. I don’t know that I can lead this battle. I want to, but…

Between my hitting Cyrus, abandoning Celeste for water and instinctive distrust for the Kastori, I don’t know that I can call myself a good commander or even a commander. Give me the title here… and I might just give it to Celeste.

Poor Cyrus, he’ll manage
, she thought with a smile that quickly vanished when Erda emerged, her hands raised to silence the crowd. It took several moments for the Kastori to stop talking, with Pagus continuing to chat until the woman next to him asked him to be quiet. Crystil saw eyes that expressed many emotions, but none of them encouraging. Fear. Annoyance. Sarcastic amusement.

She turned to Cyrus and Celeste, and the contrast could not be stronger. They had the eyes of soldiers, the eyes Crystil had developed after losing Eve on that fateful day.
The eyes that know death could come, but we’ll fight no matter the cost.

They’re good. Proud of them. Even if one gets scared and one flirts way too much.

“Kastori of Anatolus, thank you for heeding my call and gathering tonight,” she said.

Crystil thought her words carried a surprising amount of nervous energy. They fed into Crystil’s self-doubts, as she began to believe she wouldn’t add anything to the upcoming battle.

“Six months ago, we defeated Calypsius after many years of battle. It was a glorious victory, one that allowed us to live in peace, but it was one that always concerned me. I knew there would come a day when he would return.”

A murmur went through the crowd.

“He is vengeful and hateful, and would not take something like the death of Calypsius so well. I knew, from our past encounters, that he would not attack us immediately. He would want to lure us into a false sense of security, and then he would come and attack us so that we would die with false hope. I am here to squash that hope and instead give you a real hope. We can push back and defeat him—but only if we prepare for battle, a battle that I now know will come any day.”

More whispers went through the crowd. Crystil found this appalling.
No one would dare interrupt me on Monda during a speech. The Kastori here just aren’t prepared. This battle will end poorly.

“One of us has sensed him, and even heard his voice,” she said, shocking Crystil.
Who’s “one of us” if not Erda herself
? “He will come soon, and he will come with an army. It is an army that, individually, we cannot defeat, but together, we stand a chance.”

She took a deep breath.

“A chance to defeat Typhos.”

She looked over at Celeste as the crowd gasped and chirped but got no response from her or Cyrus as they both looked straight ahead to Erda.

“He will bring great magic and the black magic sword to attack,” Erda said.
I could take him if not for the magic.
“We must all prepare together, and lay out an attack plan. Even the white magic users among you must prepare to battle. I suggest we first head to Mount Ardor, where we can augment our magic and take shelter for a time. I thus recommend a plan to retreat to Mount Ardor for thirty days.”

Someone yelled “no way” as the crowd stirred with conversation. In the corner of her eye, Crystil caught Cyrus and Celeste sharing a glimpse, but no words. Yet, after their glance, Cyrus seemed to have a perturbed look on his face.
What… are they talking to each other somehow?

How would they?

They’re not…

Are they Kastori?

The possibility suddenly added up all too well for Crystil. The amount of time they spent with the Kastori. The hunting trips they took with Erda. The continuous looks they gave, and how they understood each other too well.