Kastori Tribulations (The Kastori Chronicles Book 3) (27 page)

BOOK: Kastori Tribulations (The Kastori Chronicles Book 3)
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“Understood,” Typhos said, and he tossed the bottle to the ground, shattering it.

“Typhos.”

He paused just to the side of Hanna. Her eyes seemed to shake, though they had no tears or foreshadowed any tears coming.

“What exactly is it that you’re planning to do?”

She’s nervous. Spell is wearing off.

“It’s simple, Hanna. I’m going to take control from the council and rule this planet justly. You don’t have anything to worry about.”

“I wish I could believe you,” she cooed. “But people have died already.”

Typhos sighed. He placed his hand on her shoulder and closed his eyes for just a couple of seconds—long enough to cast a spell to his choosing.

“I will do everything I can not to kill people, Hanna. But sometimes, when power shifts from one generation to the next… the other side may not like losing that power. But I promise people will not die unnecessarily. Understood?”

A smile spread across Hanna’s face, and her eyes stopped shaking.

“Yes, that seems fair. Thank you, Typhos.”

Thank you, magic.
Typhos dismissed her and went to grab another bottle before remembering a councilor had come. He instead grabbed a knife and walked outside, his mask now equipped and ready to haunt whomever he encountered.

“Behind the tent.”

Fargus.

Typhos ignored other Kastori in the area and made his way to the rear, where he came face-to-face with the frail old man in red robes. To his surprise, the elder, with his knees shaking and his breathing shallow, bowed to him. Unsure of how to respond—and with his anger tempered—Typhos motioned for Fargus to rise, which he did with some difficulty. Only the fear of a spell by Fargus kept Typhos from helping the old man.

“Look at what you have become,” Fargus said. “You have killed two people. You have run from the consequences. This is not you, Typhos.”

Typhos turned back to the outpost and sensed some of the Kastori eavesdropping. Annoyed, he cast a barrier around the two of them.

“What would you have me do, Fargus?” he said as he turned back.

“Take off the mask, for starters. I want to talk to you, not a mask designed to strike fear in us.”

“Does it?”

“Yes,” Fargus replied with no hesitancy.

Always honest.
Typhos waited a beat and knelt to remove the mask. Fargus made no attempt to restrain him and allowed him to regain his senses.

“Now, I would ask you to reconsider your approach. You know brute force and violence is not the answer. The people behind you may follow you today. But tomorrow they may be unsheathing their knives to stab you in the back. They know the anger you direct at us may soon be directed at them.”

Despite the barrier Typhos had erected, some Kastori watched with curiosity. About six people on each side of the tent observed, putting pressure on Typhos.

“So then you don’t… you don’t want to bring me in?”

“I do. And I need to.”

“Then this conversation is moot,” Typhos said, doing his best to remain calm but unable to ignore his annoyance.

“Typhos,” Fargus said, his voice coming out so weak Typhos thought it sounded like Fargus’ last words. “I will make sure that you do not get executed for your crimes. Such a punishment does little to advance our society as a whole and is a product of an era in which we were not as unified as we are. But you are, unfortunately, threatening the unification of the Kastori, and you must face the consequences of your action.”

A few of the Kastori taunted Fargus, calling Typhos the true leader, but Typhos raised a single hand to silence them.

“And what are the consequences of my actions?”

“The trial will decide that.”

Of course. Fargus. You have to go that way.

“You know I have no faith in the council, Fargus. I have faith in you, and I had faith in Garron. I would have accepted anything from you two, but I cannot accept it from the council.”

“So by not accepting it, you would kill us all?”

The pointed statement put Typhos on mute. More Kastori came to watch this showdown, but Typhos had now focused so intently on the elder that he didn’t realize the presence of more Kastori.

“I would kill anyone who does not accept my numerous offers for them to step aside.”

“Typhos, now is not the time for lies. We know how quickly you killed Ramadus and Garron.”

Typhos’ head bowed.

“And now, you want to kill me,” Fargus said.

Typhos cursed himself out quickly, reminding himself that Fargus could read his mind.
Focus. You know what your goals are and your purpose for these people is.

“I want to do whatever is necessary as leader of these people,” he said.
And for myself.

“You want to destroy Monda.”

Not just destroy. Torment it.

“Yes,” Typhos said.

“Destroying the place your mother went will not destroy the pain your mother gave you,” Fargus said.

Typhos expected more, but nothing came. Fargus instead clasped his hands, and a sudden cough came over him, so bad that he collapsed to one knee. Fargus hacked once more, then cleared his throat and rose.

“I will be gone soon, Typhos,” Fargus said, which did not surprise Typhos at all. “Whether I die here tonight or in a few days, my time on Anatolus is short, no more than through the end of these few days. It is my aim that before I die, I see justice served and this strife settled.”

“Fargus, come on,” Typhos said, pleading. “You know who is on that council.”

“Your mother? Is that who you think?”

“So it’s true.”

Fargus, for perhaps the first time since Typhos had grown close to him, struggled to answer.

“I cannot say for certain either way,” he finally said, his voice barely a whisper, words Typhos understood only because it sounded nothing like no.

That’s basically a yes.

Typhos’ legs shook, and he curled his lips inward to avoid tears. He breathed out heavily with wide eyes.
Fargus essentially confirmed it. It’s not just a product of my insanity. That… woman is back.

She took my place on the council. She left me to suffer. She abandoned me for a new son.

She needs to feel the pain of what has happened to me. She needs to know what it’s like for me to live in this turmoil permanently.

“Typhos,” Fargus said, the strength in his voice back. “Regardless of who Erda really is, your mother cannot be forgiven for what she has done. But you will not be, either, if you do something worse.”

“You think her dying is worse than the pain she’s caused me?”

No response came. Typhos looked to the crowd. Several Kastori seemed on edge, but when one accidentally took a step forward, intoxicated, Typhos held up his hand. His eyes never left the elder, though.

“If—if—Erda is your mother, then yes, as much as you do not want to hear it,” Fargus said, a statement Typhos had no problem blatantly shaking his head at. “Your mother may yet repent and reach out to you, seeking forgiveness. You will never get that chance if you kill her.”

As nice as that sounds… as much as, really, I would want it…

Not going to happen. Not even worth considering as a possibility.

“That chance would have happened by now,” Typhos said, surprised to hear his voice emotional. He paused to collect himself. Even the ocean behind him seemed to become silent. “If she’s been back long enough to make Ramadus open the councilor position, she has had weeks, if not months.”

Fargus said nothing.
He can’t say anything. This is over.

Typhos walked past Fargus, his eyes vengeful.

“Typhos,” Fargus said.

“Don’t stop me, Fargus. I’m going to my mother. I won’t hurt you, and—”

But he went silent when he felt the spell of Fargus holding him. The elder quickly released the spell, and Typhos turned and marched back to the elder. With hatred in his eyes, he stared at the dying man but did not so much as dive into his mind.

“I cannot let you do that, Typhos.”

“You know what she’s done!” Typhos cried out.

“And we don’t know what she will do to atone for her mistakes,” Fargus said.

Frustrated, Typhos turned and took a step, but once again Fargus held him in place. The old man’s magic, though still potent, had fallen behind Typhos’, and the young man easily dispelled his magic. Typhos equipped his faceless mask and turned to face Fargus.

“Fargus, I must.”

“I can’t let you do that, Typhos. My first duty is to the council.”

“Please,” Typhos said, pleading with the man. “Fargus, please.”

“I swore an oath when I joined the council many years ago to uphold its values and its place in service of the Kastori. Not everyone does a good job of serving the needs, but that does not mean the council isn’t worth upholding.”

Typhos felt a sick feeling hit his stomach and a migraine begin to form.

“This is the last chance I’ll give you, Fargus. I am going to see my mother. I do not know what I will do, but it will not be pretty. If you stop me…”

He held his knife in his hand and looked down at it. He couldn’t bring himself to say what he would do, but the image wasn’t subtle. He turned and took one step.

The magic froze him again.

In one furious motion, Typhos removed the spell, turned, and swung the knife into the chest of Fargus. The elder showed no pain and no expression otherwise as Typhos’ hand shook. He withdrew the dagger and gently helped Fargus to the ground, his arms trembling at what he had done.

“It’s never too late… to atone… and stop,” Fargus said, drawing his last breath.

 

 

 

 

50

Typhos bowed his head over Fargus. He gave a few sniffles, but he had no tears left to expend.
I lost my heart when I killed Garron. Nothing is bringing that back now.

It’s time to finish the job. It’s time to annihilate the council and take control.

Typhos looked to his right and saw Hanna slowly approaching. She stopped when he looked to her, and he quickly rose. He pointed to her and a couple of other Kastori. With his powers, he controlled their minds and gave them the coldest order he had ever spoken.

“Dispose of this body,” he said.

I would like to give you a proper funeral, Fargus. But I cannot look weak. You are the enemy, as much as I know you aren’t. These people must fear me, no matter what you say of diplomacy.

I am sorry.

“Leave no trace of it. However you do it, I do not care. But—”

An enormous rush of energy hit him hard, unlike anything he’d felt after the death of Ramadus and Garron.
This power. I can sense… it’s like I can sense everything.

All living things.

Not the peak. But if Fargus can’t sense the peak, no one can.

I see entire worlds. Monda. With those weird buildings and… things. Weapons. No magic.

Ripe for the picking. Ripe for a slow death at my hand, a death resembling the death of my good young life.

Nubia. A desert world. More people there, but a strong presence of magic. Other Kastori?

Vostoka. A cold world.

Tapuya. A jungle of a world. Such powerful red magic.

I must have them all. I must conquer those worlds and take that magic.

Thank you, Fargus. You’ve shown me the path ahead.

“I have had a change of mind,” Typhos said ominously. “Give the man a proper funeral. Burn him at a pyre. He has shown me the path to future glory and deserves the sendoff that a man of his actions should get.”

“Yes, Typhos,” the three councilors, including Hanna, said together.

“I have a mission that I must do alone,” he said. “If anyone comes to oppose what we do here, kill them. I no longer need prisoners.”

“Kill?” Hanna asked.
She’s strong. I need to keep this spell up.

“Yes. Give them one warning, and then kill them.”

He looked down one last time at Fargus.
The last man
, he thought,
I will ever have sympathy for
.

“Prepare the pyre and wait for my return.”

With that, he turned his attention to the peak, illuminated by the night stars.

“Erda!” he screamed, a cry he said with such force that he felt sure she would hear it.

He sensed for her presence and noticed it nowhere on Anatolus.
She’s either run again like the pathetic weakling she is, or she’s at the peak.

Either way, there’s something waiting for me up there I’d like to have.

With his newfound red magic, he teleported quickly and with ease to the steps leading up to the peak. He saw the cave once more, calling to him, but he ignored it. He had more power than he needed—
one cave’s test means nothing to me.

He climbed with an unreal amount of fire in his heart. He thought of what he would do to his mother and how he would make her suffer.

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