Kastori Tribulations (The Kastori Chronicles Book 3) (12 page)

He came to the tent as the last of the sun’s light flickered out, leaving nothing but the black sky and sea of stars up above him. He listened carefully at the edge of the tent, but heard nothing.

“Fargus?”

No one responded.
Not really one to respond much anyways.
He waited at the outside of the tent for several seconds, awaiting the quiet appearance of the most powerful red magic user in Anatolus, but Typhos soon realized he was waiting for someone who wasn’t there.

Curiosity got the better of him as he carefully opened the flap of the isolated, small tent. He peered inside to see space barely big enough for one person, let alone someone Fargus might talk to. He saw a roll of paper with fresh ink on it, and—

“Typhos.”

The boy jumped with a gasp at the sound of his name and whirled around to see Fargus, with his thick beard and stoic face, staring at him. As usual with Fargus, Typhos could not tell what primary emotion the councilor felt.

“Hi, sorry, I, uh, I was just coming to see you, and I called you but didn’t hear anything, so just wanted to make sure you hadn’t misheard.”

Fargus said nothing.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have opened the tent like that, it’s just, well, hah, you know, I wanted to see you.”

“Here I am,” Fargus said.

He walked into the tent, gently placing his hand on the young boy’s shoulder, encouraging him to join. Fargus guided Typhos toward a small chair directly next to his bed. Typhos felt cramped, with the top of the tent brushing on his head, and the seat barely broad enough to fit him.
It’s like it was built for a little kid or something.

Fargus exited the tent briefly, leaving Typhos to wonder how he would broach the subject. Fargus returned with some hot soup and quietly poured a bowl for himself and Typhos. He handed Typhos the bowl, and Typhos slowly sipped. It tasted wretched, but with his goals in mind, Typhos did his best to smile. Fargus sat on the edge of the bed and gave a short nod, one Typhos took as a question for how the soup was. Typhos smiled back, Fargus gave an understanding nod, and the two sipped from the soup in silence.

“So… how was the day?” Typhos said when he finished his bowl, unable to handle the quiet.

“Fine,” Fargus replied after he had consumed the last of his meal. He placed the bowl down on the ground, just by his bed, and locked his eyes on Typhos. “I know why you have come.”

He… of course. Red magic. Should’ve known. He’s been reading me this whole time.

Knows what I think of his soup, too.

Typhos waited for Fargus’ thoughts on the matter, but none came. Unsure if he had the ground to speak, Typhos remained silent until Fargus got up and moved some papers, perhaps thinking the task was finished.

“My mom is suffering, sir, and I’m sure that you see it.”

Fargus stopped with the papers and retook his seat in front of Typhos. He remained mute, and Typhos got the hint.
Wish he’d have some reaction to my mother’s state, though.

“She’s having trouble moving on, and I am too. We need each other so bad, but we’re apart for most of the day. We only have a couple hours a day when she’s not at the council or we’re not asleep, and I think it’s hurting both of us. I think… I think it’s hurting the council as well. She isn’t as good a leader as she could be. I want to be there for her, Fargus. I want to be able to be with her at the council. Garron already said it was OK. I’ll be good and stay away during the most critical, private matters. I just—I want her to be better. Can I do that? Are you OK with that? Please?”

Typhos tried to clear his mind of any negative declarations, concentrating his energy on observing Fargus, who folded his hands and went deep into thought. Fargus even closed his eyes, and had Typhos not known better, he might have assumed the elder fell asleep. Typhos nervously looked around the room and tried to lean up without too much noise to see what was on the papers Fargus had touched. He could not make out the words without being loud, though, and remained seated.

“No,” Fargus said at the same time he opened his eyes.

Why… why not? Fargus! Come on! That’s it?!

The word felt like someone had impaled his stomach with a sword. He knew from observation he wouldn’t get anything out from Fargus. He could argue the point, but Fargus would simply say no. He felt defeated, and stood up, mumbling thanks. He trudged to the entrance but paused just before exiting.
What have you got to lose? Just ask. He can be cruel if he wants and not answer, but he won’t if you don’t ask.

“May I ask why not?”

Fargus nodded and again went into a deep trance. Typhos crossed his arms and leaned over to the paper. It listed various red spells, including “Sense Block,” “Mind Shift,” and “Planetary Destruction.” He became curious, most especially about the last magic, but he sensed Fargus staring at him and returned his gaze back to the elder.

“The problem that prevents me from saying yes lies not in the tradition of the way things are done.”

He said nothing more, and he motioned for Typhos to leave. With no recourse left, Typhos obeyed, fuming.

Some answer that was. Gives me a stupid riddle or mysterious response instead of just saying it’s me or his belief or whatever. Fargus. You’ve outgrown your usefulness. You’re just a dying old man with power who hasn’t joined my father yet.

Typhos. Actually think about what he said. If the problem is not the tradition, he would oppose the tradition if it was right. But that means the problem is… someone.

Me?

What? Why?? I have ambitions, what’s wrong with that?!? I’m not going to kill anyone. I’m not going to bring destruction to this world. I just want power because I know what to do with it.

Is this what the entire council thinks? Is Fargus speaking on behalf of the council? He didn’t say for himself like Garron did. Do all of them not want to see me up there?

Fine. I’ll have to campaign to them individually. Seems like only Garron is on my side. Well, time to change that.

Typhos angrily made his way back home, so wrapped up in his bitter thoughts that he did not heed any of the arachnias or aviants screeching around him. He ignored his surroundings, maintaining tunnel vision the whole way home.

At the top of the hill, a lone figure awaited him. In the shadows, Typhos could not see who it was and had a fleeting hope his mother stood waiting. But the voice that spoke first deflated that thought.

“How did it go with Fargus?” Garron asked.

Typhos opened his mouth to speak but got an idea as he got closer, one which dangerous restored confidence to him.

“It went well,” he said, the darkness hiding his smile.

16

Typhos felt guilty pleasure in what he had just done.
Questionable ethically? Maybe.

Will it get me to the council faster? Sure seems that way.

Garron supports me. Fargus “supports” me. Suddenly the ball gets rolling, momentum is in my favor, and more fall in line. Everyone will want me on board. I will be on the council, and I will see how it all works, and I’ll know exactly how to become chief. It’s all coming together.

“Really?” Garron said, genuine surprise in his voice.

“Yes, Garron,” Typhos annunciated slowly. “He said he feels the pain of my mother and wants what is best for the council, which is a strong Aida.”

“Really,” Garron said, except this time, his voice carried suspicion in it. “I never would have imagined Fargus to have said such a thing. Honestly, wouldn’t have imagined Fargus to have said much of anything.”

“I mean, he didn’t say it exactly like that, and yes, it came in fewer words, but the idea is the same. Help my mother, help the council, help all Kastori, and so on.”

Garron peered at Typhos in the darkness, and the boy gave thanks that he had the night to hide most of his gleeful, suspicious expression.
And also to my sharp tongue for not revealing my thoughts. And my red magic for keeping my thoughts mostly private against someone like Garron.

“This is… I am surprised, Typhos. How did you explain it to him?”

“I just said what I told you. There really wasn’t much to it, and not much more to be said.”

“I see,” Garron said, doubt as evident as anything else. “He’s usually one to stick with tradition. For him to pull this way, he must honestly feel your mother needs the help.”

Precisely. It’s worse than you think it is, Garron. We really need me there. Keep believing that.

“He saw that that was the case and that the sooner I am there, the better we all are.”

Garron didn’t respond, and Typhos began to think that he had gone too far. But, mercifully, the black magic councilor shrugged in acceptance.

“If that’s what Fargus says, then that’s what Fargus says. You need two more people, Typhos, but I feel better supporting you knowing that someone else does as well.”

Typhos’ eyebrows arched in excitement while his mind raced wild with the realization of what he’d just done.
I can make anyone do anything. What power. What amazing skill. I love it.

Well, except Fargus. But he’ll be dead soon.

“I must be going, Typhos. Keep up the work, and you will get what you want. Your mother is waiting for you.”

“Understood,” Typhos said, and he sprinted home before Garron could question him further.

The boy felt a rush that his feet beneath him could not match. If he could make the council, supposedly the “best Kastori,” fall under his spell, what could he do with the entire population? He knew lying was risky, but if ever he persuaded people to join him under some common cause…

Entitlement.

The word kept flashing to mind.
“You must not become entitled.”

Except if I persuade the people, and they support me, it’s not really being entitled, is it, Dad? It’s earned, not expected.

He pushed away the words of his father and walked into the tent, the cocky smile embedded deep on his face. He saw his mother on her bed, silently drinking some soup. She looked sad, as she usually did, but her face became neutral when she saw her son enter with the grin on his face.

“Someone had a good day,” she said, her voice exhausted and signaling she was near sleep. “I am glad you did. I’m hoping I can get a day like that soon.”

“As do I,” Typhos said as he leaned over and kissed her on top of the head. “I got Garron and Fargus to support me.”

“You what,” Aida said, her words a surprised statement, not a question.

Should’ve kept my mouth shut. Should’ve only spoken about it if spoken to. You idiot.

“Just got some people on my side.”

“Who? Fargus?”

Typhos couldn’t get himself out of it, so he nodded yes and quickly turned away, resting on his bed.

“You got Fargus to support you?”

She probably knows I’m lying. But I can’t stop now. I can still trudge my way through to being there. Even if Mom doesn’t want me there, it’ll still help me. Get four councilors and Mom won’t have a say.

“Yeah. Figured he was the toughest person to persuade so I went right after Garron, and he said yes after some talk.”

“Some talk,” she said.

Then she did something that Typhos did not expect at all.

“OK,” she said with a shrug and a sigh.

She collapsed into bed and closed her eyes.

“Mom?” Typhos asked, concerned.

“It’s fine,” she said. “If Fargus supports you, that’s great, it really is.”

That’s a lie.

You either know I’m lying, or you don’t want me there.

Why wouldn’t you want me there? You’re not well, Mom. I can help. Or do you not want my help? Is that it? You’re like Dad, pushing away all the help until it’s too late? Is that the idea?

“You OK?” he asked.

Aida sighed, turning on her side, facing away from Typhos. The boy sadly understood and stopped inquiring, choosing instead to think about his next action.

“I miss your father terribly, Typhos,” she said, still facing away but the shaking in her voice clear. “This is very hard for me. You don’t ever forget those you loved and those who loved you as intensely as we did each other. Everything I am is because of him. And now that he’s gone…”

A few tears fell. Typhos stood up and sat on the edge of the bed, but his mother did not turn to him.

“It’s OK, Typhos, really. I do this every night, remember?”

Typhos gave a polite laugh but got the hint.
She doesn’t want me here right now. She’s sad. She knows I’m lying. It’s making it worse.

You can’t stop, Typhos. You have a council to reach. Nothing—and no one—can stop you.

Not even your mother.

17

The next day, as soon as the sun rose, Typhos began walking south as far and as long as he could. For hours, he walked into the forest, through the woods and to the plains on the other side, where creatures of various sizes roamed and chased each other. He ignored them all, heading for the southernmost Kastori outpost on the planet. He planned on intercepting the clown of the council, Ramadus, and persuading the feeble-minded fool to his side.