“Very well,” Fargus said.
A Kastori ran over to him with the torch in hand, and Fargus held it aloft for all the Kastori to see. He turned to face the pyre.
Last chance. If ever you want people to remember your words for Dad, this is it.
Fargus took enough steps that he could place the flame beneath the pyre, reducing his father’s body to ashes.
You sure you don’t want to say something? Anger will subside—I think—but the flames won’t. He wasn’t a terrible dad. He was a good dad. He just wasn’t there enough to be a great dad. He loved you, even if it never got deep.
Do it.
I… I can’t. I can’t look past the way he died. No.
Fargus lowered his arm and paused.
He knows. No, Fargus, I’m sorry. I cannot. I’m… I’m too angry.
Fargus quickly tossed the flame to the base and turned around, striding and with his head bowed. He looked at Typhos, and Typhos saw tears in Fargus’ eyes. It brought strong emotions to Typhos, who bit his lip and took deep breaths in to avoid his own tears. Ahead, he heard the flames dancing on the pyre, working their way up to his Dad. He also heard the sounds of lupi howling mournfully in the forest.
“Typhos,” Aida said, but he could not bear to look at her, the way her voice quivered. He didn’t want to cry—not in front of everyone, and not when he still felt bitterness toward Adanus. “Typhos.”
He acquiesced somewhat and put his arm back around her, holding her tight as she sniffled. Typhos could not hold the tears back entirely and let a couple fall down his cheek, but he fought with all of his power to limit the display of emotion. Bye, Dad. I wish we had done this better.
What if we had. What if you had been home more often.
If only…
Instead, all I’m left with is…
Typhos shook his head violently, pushing the strong thoughts out of his mind. The flames reached the pinnacle, and he could no longer see his father. He wrapped up his mother tighter when the pyre began to collapse, and the smoke scaled high enough that anyone at the peak of Mount Ardor would see the black fumes.
Hope someday I can see you in a better light, Dad. But right now…
Goodbye.
He looked up to the heavens, beyond where the smoke reached, and tried counting the stars. Pointless. But I’ll have to go to some of those. Have to get off this world. This planet is nothing but sadness and grief. There’s no debate for me. Only the council and Mom are why I’m here. And I have to have that council position.
Have to.
Or I’ll make it so no one needs the council.
The last of the pyre burned, and his mother’s tears slowly dried up. The Kastori in the crowd dispersed. A few nearby Kastori came to express their condolences, and Typhos played the part of the sad son well. To his surprise, his mother seemed calm and able to have amiable conversation. She did not cry while talking to other Kastori. Most gave her space, though, and soon just the boy and his mother remained in front of the pillar of smoke.
“We need to move past this together,” his mother said, much to Typhos’ surprise. “I feel good now. Like I finally laid him to peace.”
“Really?”
“I promise.”
That seems unlikely.
“I just know we gave your father the kind of funeral he would want, and he’s definitely not coming back now. It’s final.”
Typhos nodded. Then why can’t I get rid of the anger like you can get rid of the sadness?
“I appreciate you, son,” his mother crooned. “I love you and I am going to do more to show that to you. I know you wish we were around more, and sadly, I can’t fix that with your father.”
Wouldn’t want you to. Wouldn’t want him to anymore. He had his chance.
“But I’ll do my best. I still have to fulfill my duties as chief. But I will make it a point to come home more often and spend more time with you.”
She’s serious.
“That would… be great,” Typhos said, emotions reaching him. “It’s been hard. I am so jealous of the friends whose parents are always there.”
“I know. All too well.”
“As long as you can change going forward…”
His voice trailed off.
“I will. We’ll get this right.”
The two hugged in silence for several moments, staring at the remaining embers slowly fading into the blackness of night. His mother approached the pyre and said something that Typhos could not hear. She walked past the pyre after that and turned to Typhos, allowing him one last moment with his father’s memory. He approached and thought of all of the times that he had had with Adanus. The good times—the times when he had left work early or not gone in at all. Those were actually some great times. Just… why couldn’t there be more… what if…
“What if?” he muttered, his voice shaking.
A single tear fell from the right eye of Typhos before he bit his lip and stopped any more emotional displays. He turned and walked with a fury to his mother, trying to suppress his true emotions but knowing he would never completely do so.
12
A week later, Typhos woke up to the sound of his mother, still sniffling, opening the flap and departing. He quickly sat up, shocked, and ran outside to meet her.
“You’re actually going?” he asked, jumping in front of her. We’ve gotten so close. We need to keep doing this. “We should talk some, go on another walk. We—”
“Typhos,” his mother crooned, her eyes wet. “Yes, I am going.”
Don’t leave me here. I’ll just go mad thinking about what Dad did and how it ruined my birthday and at this rate the rest of my life. You balance me out and make it OK.
“But why can’t you just telepathically communicate like you always have? I can help you here and take care of you, and we can get over it together, and—”
Aida surprised him with a sudden embrace, one that silenced his voice but produced new sniffles and tears. She let out a loud groan as she slowly pulled back after he had cried a few tears.
“You are right that we could do a lot of things together, but Typhos, I have to be honest, I am not sure I will ever get over this,” she said, creating a depressing, hopeless feeling in Typhos’ gut. “If that is the case, there is nothing for me to do personally. I can only focus on guiding the people and doing so in person at the council. It is much more effective than communicating from afar. For one, communication is spotty because of the density of magic up there. For another, I miss the council members.”
Enough to leave me behind? Are they that important?
You have to ask, Typhos. This is the chance.
“Aida,” Garron said behind Typhos. “Are you actually coming today?”
Aida nodded grimly.
“I need to take care of my son first, but I will be there. Go on ahead.”
“OK. Typhos, Pagus could use some company. He hasn’t seen you in a week and would love to hang out.”
I don’t want to hang out with Pagus. I want to hang out with my Mom. If I don’t…
Garron got the hint when no one responded and departed. Typhos looked his mother in the eyes and saw a woman uncertain of her next decision.
“I would like to stay here, Typhos, but I cannot,” she said.
“Hang out with me if you can’t get past Dad!” he said, his voice rising to the point that his mother shushed him.
“And we will, son, we will. I hope. But I have duties. When you are old enough to work, you will understand.”
“Mom!” he cried, but she started to walk past him. You gotta ask. You gotta do it now. Otherwise later turns into never.
“Mom,” he said, his voice soft enough that Aida did, in fact, pivot back to him. He put on his softest expression. “May I go with you?”
Typhos could not place the immediate facial reaction of his mother, but it seemed like a blend of shock, anger, annoyance, and curiosity. He hadn’t seen such a look before. Then again, never really do
ne anything like this before. Keep talking.
“May I please go with you,” he said, grabbing her hand gently. “You say you can’t get over Dad, but I just don’t think enough time has passed. But one way to ensure you never get over it is if you don’t spend time with your only other family member. I’m not saying ignore the council and your job as chief, that would hurt us all. But Mom, there’s no reason I can’t join you up there and at least comfort you when you need it. I’ll be totally silent during the day. I’ll stay out of discussions and even go out of earshot during the most important moments. I don’t want to be a burden, but I don’t want to see you suffer. Please?”
His mother looked like she wanted to say no but had gotten so shellacked by the questioning that she couldn’t produce an actual response.
“If you need to, can you put it to a vote? I get if you don’t want to overrun the council with some chief decision, but I really think we need this. I—”
“We?” she said, and Typhos bit his lip, worried he’d inadvertently stumbled.
“Yes, we both need each other to recover,” he said, hoping she did not remember or know of his unchecked ambitions to become chief—or something greater. A kind of god.
Aida spent several moments with her arms crossed, staring at the ground, unable to look her son in the eye. Typhos hoped she was deep in thought and not in depression at the request. He waited as long as he could not to say anything more, but the temptation to talk more nearly overtook him.
“Dear, I’m sorry, you know I can’t do that,” she said, her eyes truly sorrowful. “We’ve never—”
“But Mom, please!” Typhos said, his hands on her arms tightly. “We need this! We need each other!”
She nodded with an exhausted grimace.
“We do, but the time to be around each other is not when I am working, Typhos. I—”
“Can we bring it up to the council? They understand, they will. We as a family need each other.”
Aida sighed and kept looking over her shoulder as if expecting someone to berate her for being late.
“Typhos, no. We have never had—”
“Mom! Please!”
“Typhos!” she snapped.
Typhos recoiled, but dark feelings seeped into his mind. She’s not even considering it. It’s like she doesn’t really want me around. Do I have two parents lying to me now? His mother breathed slowly while Typhos did his best to prevent the ugly thoughts from turning into a believable truth.
“I have made my decision, and you need to respect that. I am not Tara or one of your classmates. I am your mother.”
The tone of her voice sounded like one he had heard far too much in years past when he frequently got in trouble.
“Only because of the circumstance, and only because you are so insistent, I will ask the council what they think. But I am not going to do so in a formal setting and mock what the council and chief are about. I will only speak to others outside of our official meetings, and I will probably not speak to everyone, because once I get a sense from a couple of people, I will not need to confirm it with everyone. Do not get your hopes up.”
Typhos bit his lip to avoid replying, “Why should I ever with you and Dad?” I have an opening. Now I just need to hope Mom cares enough.
“Thanks,” he said, the fire in his mind not yet put out.
“You are welcome, Typhos,” she said
She leaned up and kissed him on the cheek, though it felt more like a formality than an actual display of love.
“I will be home for dinner. I will informally mention everything to the council. And I will see you tonight. Love you.”
She quickly turned around like a child late for class, and Typhos disgustedly shook his head as she departed. So much for us leaning on each other. So much for me having a chance for the council.
But at least both are still possible.
13
Typhos had no mother for the rest of the day. He had no father anymore. He didn’t want to see Pagus while angry.
He had no one around him. Only his angry state and his dark mind occupied him.
He sat on the edge of his mother’s bed as the disturbed thoughts gripped his mind. You don’t need her permission. Just go. Scale the mountain and crash the council. They won’t stop you. And if they do—you got the power.
Are you going because you want to help her? Do you really want to help your mother? Or is she just a means?
I love you, Mom. So why don’t you feel the same way? Why can’t you let me be with you?
Get rid of the council. Make it useless. Force your mother to spend time with you. Rule by your right!
“Stop!” he cried out.
In a rush, he stood up and stomped out of the tent, walking past his outpost and going toward the forest. He bumped into no one at first.
He got to the edge of the forest and heard two distinct laughs. One came from a young girl, probably no older than eight or nine. The other came from an older man… old enough to be a father. I’m glad someone is happy. Glad someone has what I never did.
He tightened his hands and marched straight into the woods, feeling sick, jealous, and moody. He didn’t care if an ursus surprised him or an arachnia tried to capture him. He’d just burn it to the ground with all of the fire spells he could muster. Burn down the whole forest as a way of getting my mother back down here. Not like the council could hold me down.
About five hundred feet into the forest, Typhos heard the deep, warning growl of an ursus and froze. He kept his strong posture as an above-average-sized ursus emerged from behind a few trees. Fear began to sink into the boy, who quickly realized he had let his anger get the best of him. He slowly backed away as the ursus stood its ground, growling at Typhos but not advancing. He refused to apologize, in his mind or out loud, and once he’d gotten a safe distance, he ran back to the base of the mountain.
What is wrong with you?!? You call yourself the savior? You think you’re going to be chief someday? You retreat from a simple ursus. You can’t even keep your mother around for longer than a week.
Nor your father. Savior, huh? Savior of what? Savior of nothing. Your dad’s dead, and if you were the savior, he wouldn’t be. He wouldn’t be ashes spread out across the plains.
I’m young, give me time!
You’re fifteen, not five. You know your skills. And you weren’t good enough. Failure. Failure. Failure…
“Stop!” he cried once more as he put his fists on his forehead. He turned to the highest mountain on all of Anatolus, so high no one on the ground could see the peak. Mount Ardor rose like a monument to the council and chief, the only people who had the power to convene at the top. Typhos knew he, too, had the power to reach the top, but as long as the council worked there, no one else had the skills to teleport.
So just walk it. I’m not going to stop until I get to the top. Going to force my way in.
He put his right foot forward and froze. Logic smacked his mind, reminding him that scaling a hundred thousand feet didn’t just happen in the course of a day, or even a week. He had no supplies, no food, no water, and no plan for climbing.
Not like I got anything else to do. And if things go bad… I’ll just teleport down. Easier to go down than up.
Won’t happen. I will reach Mom and the council.
A sense of desperation and insanity took over as Typhos began the extremely gradual ascent up the mountain. He crawled on his knees multiple times as he scaled the great mountain. The sun above him went past its zenith and continued down, marking the hours as Typhos ignored the pain in his stomach and the blurry spots that kept appearing in his vision.
Typhos scaled for hours, losing his footing twice but never facing danger greater than a scratched knee. He became dangerously single-minded, believing he would find his mother and the council, and they would have no choice but to give him a spot on the council for the work he did. No one’s scaled this. They would have to reward me.
Only the sun setting m
ade Typhos realize how foolish he had acted. He could still see the ground below and guessed he had scaled no more than a couple of thousand feet—if that. Mom’s probably already home, or will be by the time I get there. Stupid! This would easily take weeks! He stood up and felt incredibly lightheaded, collapsing to the ground. He kept consciousness but needed to breathe slowly to stay conscious.
“OK, go home,” he muttered to himself, disappointed.
He slowly rose off his back, remaining on the ground, and cast a series of teleportation spells. The magic only moved him back about five minutes worth of hiking but eventually placed him at the base, just as the sun had nearly disappeared entirely. He dusted himself off and began the slow trek home, embarrassed and ashamed at how he had lost his mind so easily with his mother gone.
He reached his outpost and saw Pagus, who waved. Typhos returned the favor but kept walking, not even saying hello to his best friend. Typhos came to his tent and stepped inside, not bothering to open the flap before brushing it aside.
She’s not here. I should’ve just stayed—
“Typhos!”
He quickly looked to his right, the one area he hadn’t examined, and saw Aida sipping on soup, motherly concern all over her face.
“Are you OK? You look—”
She cut herself off, putting the bowl on the ground and rushing to him. She placed her hands on a few of the cuts, healing him quickly.
“What happened? Did you get in a fight?”
“What? No, don’t be crazy,” he said. “I was just… getting some rigorous exercise in and I fell a couple of times. No big deal.”
Now you’re the lying one.
Hardly comparable to lying about imminent death.
“Oh,” she said.
“Oh?” That’s it?
She seemed exhausted from the day, her wrinkles more pronounced and her voice carrying less strength than in the morning.
Silence came between the two tense Kastori as Aida finished healing Typhos’ wounds. Typhos went to his bed and collapsed. He barely had the strength to take the bowl that his mother placed by his bed, but it did have the effect of giving him the energy to speak.
Kastori Tribulations (The Kastori Chronicles Book 3) Page 7
