Kastori Devastations (The Kastori Chronicles Book 2)

by Stephen Allan

  “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. The 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.

  “Here’s the deal,” Petrus began, his voice still low in case more magicologists came. “You saw the storm vanish over the palace? That’s our signal that Typhos is no longer there. Our mission is simple. Rescue the girl inside the palace. Set her up with Gaius, and then ambush Typh
os and his men when they return.”

  “I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again,” Morian groaned. “Why should any of us help a… one of those things? Especially when it means that one just replaces Typhos and offers no guarantee of the world we once had.”

  There’s always the risk he’s right. Gaius… he’s selfish and driven for himself and could flip. But he’s not the emotional mess Typhos is.

  “It can’t get any worse than this, Morian,” Petrus said. “Gaius knows having us on his side, in the long run, will make his rule easier. Yes, we will work for a magicologist. But I’d rather work for a nakar at this point than Typhos.”

  Murmurs of agreement spread through the group. Petrus looked in each of their eyes and saw sworn allegiance to their mission, even from Morian.

  “Now, here’s the intel. The palace wall will have roughly eight magicologists patrolling. Our rifles can take out those guys, but we have to act in unison and quickly.”

  “Not our first rodeo together,” Trista said, a soldier’s cold expression on her face. “We know how to work. Do you, Petrus?”

  More than you realize.

  “Yes,” he said. “I have served before.”

  “Good,” she said.

  She’s just like Crystil.

  “Once we get inside, the girl is on the third floor. She—”

  “Wait,” Ector said. Everyone went silent as Ector took a second to collect his thoughts. “If this girl is as powerful as they say she is, she has to be a magicologist. We want to break her out?”

  Petrus sighed. I really hope this is Celeste. She might be the only one who can bridge this gap between complete trust and immediate dismissal. In which case she’s not magicologist, she’s Kastori.

  “The fact that she’s a prisoner of Typhos means she probably hates him like we do, Ector. It’s a risk I’m willing to take, especially since the six of us will get destroyed by Typhos without their help.”

  Ector gave a short nod, his chin barely moving. Petrus cleared his throat as he looked to see if anyone else would interrupt. No one seemed eager to do so.

  “We break the girl out, pair her with Gaius, and we wait for further instruction.”

  That produced some groans, but Petrus made it clear through his posture he did not want anyone arguing. Petrus walked past the group with the simple words, “Let’s get going, then.”

  The six humans moved at a quick but silent pace. Every couple dozen seconds, the first human paused, looked through his scope and announced whether it was clear. Every time leading up to the palace, it was.

  They finally got within range of the patrolling magicologists, and the six humans spread out in a horizontal line, Petrus between Lance and Trista.

  “We should just shoot Gaius and have the girl lead us against Typhos,” Morian said.

  Petrus snorted, tired of arguing his point.

  “The girl is weakened and will need assistance,” he said. “You’re like Crystil whenever she helped Emperor Orthran.”

  To his surprise, Trista groaned disgustedly. Petrus pulled away from his rifle to look at the girl, who looked annoyed to have heard the name.

  “Commander Bradford was a great soldier. Emphasis on was. She ran away with the rest of the humans.”

  Here we go.

  “Can’t blame her, with the power the magicologists had. But for all the legendary stuff said about her skills and instinct, you would think she’d stay behind and fight with her fellow soldiers.”

  “Who’s to say she didn’t want to?” Petrus said, his voice rising to the point Lance put his hand on his back to quiet him down. “Maybe the emperor forced her to leave to protect his children on whatever new world they went to. Besides, remember—if it’s not Celeste, it’s probably Crystil in there.”

  That silenced Trista for a moment, and Petrus used the chance to line up the third Kastori from the left in his vision.

  “If it’s her, I’ll rescue her with my life,” Trista said. “And then I’ll have some words with her.”

  She won’t be the only one you have them with.

  49

  Transitioning from Anatolus to Monda seemed instantaneous for Crystil. One moment, she walked on perfectly smooth rock with no clouds in sight. The next, she felt rain on her head; grassy, inclined ground beneath her feet; and the sound of a dying thunder off in the distance. She glanced up at the sky, and the normally gorgeous, clear evenings of Monda had disappeared, replaced by scattered lightning bolts dancing from cloud to cloud—except at one spot.

  She brought her line of sight lower, and with the lightning could see the hills, including the one which the imperial palace rested on. My home. The palace’s wall remained, upon it about eight enemies in total. They patrolled slowly and were too far to sense her, Cyrus, or Erda, so she took her chance from her spot on a high hill to glance around.

  Directly behind them lay the shell of Capitol City. Most buildings remained, but as nothing more than burned and ripped reminders of their former selves. Few buildings remained intact, and none of them looked occupied. No lights shone through the windows, and there were no vehicles in the area. The magicologists wiped it all out.

  Looking right, she could see the Reygar Mountains. At least something remained intact. Her eyes dipped to the base of the mountain and saw a large camp. She couldn’t make out the individual people but could see humans lined up in rows, performing manual labor. She knew what had become of her fellow humans. Slaves.

  Her breathing increased as she took a few steps closer, the better to get a clearer view. The camp extended across many acres and seemed to have the entire population of Capitol City in it. Her heart ached for them and burned with a fire that only the death of Typhos could extinguish.

  What makes it worse is I can’t do anything right now. Celeste first. Then Typhos. Then we free everyone.

  I’m sorry.

  She focused on her breath and calmed herself. To her surprise, even as she heard the footsteps of Cyrus, instead of feeling more anxiety with someone approaching her, she felt calmer.

  “You OK?” he asked. “It’s weird, isn’t it.”

  “I never thought I would be back here. I thought I’d left home behind for good. Everyone I ever loved here who didn’t come to Monda is gone, and being back here…”

  “I know,” Cyrus said. “It’s a bit much for me too. But there’s no reason we can’t reframe Monda with our actions. Instead of it being a graveyard, let’s make it a place we can save. I’ll take the throne, you’ll become empress—”

  “Really,” Crystil said, a short laugh escaping. “No, I get it. It’s just… give me a moment.”

  Cyrus nodded and walked a few feet to her side. Dyson, Emperor Orthran. Both of you. I love you both. We’ll get this land back. I promise.

  She took one last glance at Capitol City’s remains and the slave camp. It’ll take years. But we have the most important component, the most fundamental thing. Us. She turned and walked to Erda, her right hand near her sword at all times in case of an ambush.

  “Ready?” Erda asked, her voice hurried and hasty. Crystil had seen many emotions in the eyes of the chief—fear, anxiety, acceptance, sternness—but never stress from not going fast enough.

  “Let’s go,” Crystil said, leading the three of them along the side of the road.

  As they walked, Cyrus and Crystil slowly brought their swords out, careful not to let the steel of the blade grind loudly on the sheath. When lightning came, the three hit the ground, a task that left Crystil feeling like she was back in training for as often as they got on their stomachs and crawled.

  Finally, they crouched at the front of the bushes leading up to the wall, with Crystil on the right hedge and Cyrus and Erda to her left. They looked up and saw two magicologists on each side patrolling. Crystil looked to Erda, who gave a nod and slowly looked put on her mask. Crystil looked back. She heard a nearly muted pew, the kind that only she would pick up from her training.

  And the ma
gicologist dropped like a rag doll.

  Dead?

  Bullets.

  Someone’s helping us.

  How? Celeste?

  Someone else wants to break Celeste out.

  “Erda, Cyrus,” she said, and the two motioned for her to whisper, but she waved them over. While they came, she looked toward the right side of the palace. It wasn’t much, but she could see someone moving their arm. With that, she could see five other soldiers lined up, in rag clothes but with Nakar 17s, ready to shoot anything that moved. “We have some help.”

  “Humans?” Cyrus asked.

  “Yeah, they’ve got rifles,” she said.

  We could use their help.

  Crystil slowly got out of her crouch with her hands up, but Cyrus pulled her down by the collar.

  “Are you insane?” he asked through gritted teeth. “These guys have been captive for over two years and just got out. What do you think they’re going to do when they see two humans with a sword and a Kastori? They’ll shoot us up immediately!”

  “Good point,” Crystil said, and she quickly unbuckled the sheath and sword from her hip and placed it in front of Erda. “I’ll be back.”

  “Crystil! What are you doing!”

  Crystil looked back at Cyrus, who seemed on the verge of panic. Crystil squatted down to her knees and put her hand on his shoulder.

  “Trust a soldier’s instincts. They’ve gotten you this far.”

  She kissed him on the cheek, leaving him with a smile that he could not hide.

  “I’ll be back, I promise.”

  She stood up as her hand mussed his hair. She turned around with her arms in the sky, approaching a group she hoped would see her as an ally.

  50

  With synchronization that took Petrus way back decades to his time as a soldier, he and his five comrades took out all of the magicologists with perfectly aimed shots.

  “Not a bad start,” Lance said. “It’s only going to get tougher though.”

  “Wait,” Morian said.

  “Case in point,” Lance mumbled.

  “I see someone approaching, not magicologist though. Looks like a human woman. Tall, black hair, thin.”