Kastori Tribulations (The Kastori Chronicles Book 3)

by Stephen Allan

  He sensed his mother but screamed, “No! I never want to see you again, Aida!”

  It’s all on me now. Goodbye, Mom.

  I wish…

  No. You’re gone. I don’t want you back.

  34

  “Typhos?”

  The boy heard the gentle voice of his best friend and motioned for him to come in.

  “My dad told me what happened. You OK?”

  I’m fine. I’m fine. I’m fine.

  “Yeah, nothing I can do about it,” Typhos said dismissively as Pagus took a seat on Typhos’ right. “I’m just gonna focus on what I can control, and that is getting on the council once they figure out who becomes chief.”

  “Just like that?” Pagus said in shock.

  Typhos looked over with disdain at Pagus for continuing the discussion.

  “Yeah,” he said curtly.

  Pagus looked out ahead, saying, “OK,” while not looking at Typhos.

  “But you do know that’s going to take some time,” Pagus said. “Dad said the process of choosing a new chief takes months. You gotta give time for people to mourn, then decide who will run, and if more than one person wants to run—which there always are—then you have to let them talk to the council, who in turn talk to the Kastori as a whole. And—”

  “Man, the way you’re describing it, I almost would rather just take the thing without asking,” Typhos spat.

  “Yeah, right?” Pagus said, gently patting his friend’s shoulder. “Well, if you do run, you better get in there now. People unfortunately expected this to come, and a couple of the councilors have already begun campaigning for the role of chief in anticipation of this.”

  “Is your dad running?”

  Pagus shook his head quickly.

  “If anything, he’s thinking about retiring soon,” Pagus said, which sent amusing feelings through Typhos. I could take his father’s place. Wouldn’t that be something. “No. I hear it’s going to be Ramadus and Fargus running.”

  “So an idiot and a man on his death bed,” Typhos deadpanned, drawing a laugh from Pagus that Typhos did not join. “I should just run. Those two fools?”

  “Yeah, I mean, I’d support you in that,” Pagus said without sarcasm. “But unfortunately, as my Dad says, politics is twenty percent skill, forty percent presentation, and forty percent knowing the right people. And right now, you might crush the other two in skill and maybe even in presentation, but those two know the other councilors much better. It’s funny. As goofy as Ramadus is, it kind of works in his favor.”

  Typhos sighed loudly and placed his head in his hands.

  “Like I said, though, Dad might retire soon and then if Ramadus wins… a black magic councilor seat opens up.”

  “Yeah, but then I have to be a councilor for Ramadus, ugh.”

  The two briefly laughed, but when the laughter died, nothing about the situation felt funny to Typhos. If Ramadus became chief, it would serve as another reminder that the council had lost its touch.

  35

  A month later, Typhos stood at the edge of the hill in silence with Pagus by his side, about the only person left he felt a shred of connection to. All this time. Bout a year since Mom left. Dad’s been gone for just a little longer.

  And I don’t feel any better.

  The pain never gets any better, at least not in the big picture. About the only time I feel good is when I’m casting powerful spells and demonstrating my skills. Otherwise… it’s just ennui.

  So much for time helping. It doesn’t.

  “Typhos,” Pagus said.

  The boy turned to his good friend with a weary expression written on his face, more out of courtesy for whatever Pagus had to say.

  “You good?”

  Typhos gave a snort.

  “No.”

  “It’s not going to get much better for you two,” Garron said as he approached the two boys.

  “Dad?” Pagus said, confused that his father would have arrived before the sun set.

  “Typhos, I know how you feel about who is running for the role of chief, and I’m here to tell you the results. You might as well hear it now.”

  Oh no. He’s not this way if Fargus won.

  “Ramadus won. He’ll be sworn in as the new chief in the next couple of days.”

  “Lovely,” Typhos said. “Just… lovely. Do you know how screwed we are, Garron?”

  Garron put his hands up to calm the young man, but it only made things worse.

  “He’s so dumb and bumbling! The fact that he’s becoming the chief—I don’t care how liked he is. You don’t pick someone just because they can be friends with everyone! The people are screwed!”

  And he’s never going to fill that last seat, either. We’re just going to be meandering along. He’s under no obligation to, so why would he?

  And the Kastori…

  This is bad. This is really, really bad.

  Life just can’t get any worse.

  “Just give him a chance, Typhos,” Garron said. “You don’t know how it will turn out.”

  “I don’t need to,” Typhos said.

  He sneered, and the way he spoke instilled fear even in himself.

  “All he gets is a brief chance.”

  And if he fails that chance, I’m taking everything out on him.

  36

  At the same spot where Typhos had watched his father dissolve into crumbles of ash and black smoke, he stood at the front of hundreds of rows of Kastori, directly on the aisle where the council would process. He had his black robes pulled over his head, making it difficult to analyze his facial expression. He wanted to wear the mask, but not at the risk of bringing attention to himself.

  To his left, Pagus stood, his robes in a much more relaxed and comfortable position. He had a nervous energy to him, excited to witness the swearing in of a new chief yet tempered by the anger Typhos felt.

  The council desperately needs help. They’re beyond saving. Everyone’s far too old, even Amelia. If Ramadus ever fills out that last spot…

  He’s got to go. We—I—have got to find a way to get him thrown out somehow. As long as he’s the deciding vote, the fool will lead us all into trouble.

  All whispers and murmurs went silent when the five council members not elected chief formed a V-formation at the back of the crowd. Fargus led the group with Garron and Cleatra on his left and Amelia and Lyos on his right. They slowly processed, keeping their eyes straight ahead. Behind them, Ramadus, wearing the traditional golden robes of the chief, walked with a goofy smile that Typhos wanted to obliterate. There’s no way that guy has greater command of magic than Fargus. Or common sense. Or intelligence. Or social graces. Or…

  Ramadus walked by and gave a short nod to Typhos. Typhos barely tilted his head, enough to qualify as a reaction but not one that would give the chief any satisfaction. Not that it matters. He won’t even remember this in five minutes.

  The council stopped before a short platform created for the ceremony. Ramadus circled and went to the top. The council inverted itself, and Fargus cleared his throat, using magic to project his voice for all Kastori to hear.

  “Good morning to all Kastori,” he said, his voice strained.

  That’s awfully audacious to ask Fargus to speak after he lost to an idiot. Wonder what Fargus thinks of this.

  “We have gathered here to witness the swearing in of our newest chief.”

  Raucous, wild applause broke out, and Typhos looked around with narrowed eyes. Were the people that stupid? Was he the only one who saw what was wrong with Ramadus? At least Pagus has the good sense to keep his applause at a minimum.

  But the rest of the Kastori… are they like Ramadus? Stupid and easily swept up by the moment?

  They will be nothing but pawns for me if so. I don’t have an obligation to guide the people. The people won’t know which way to go. I’ll have to help myself, and I know what I want is what will make the Kastori great.

  One less thing to worry about.
>
  Typhos smiled at the thought, but Fargus spoke again. The reminder of why they were all there sank his mood quickly.

  “Ramadus is a great man. He…”

  Typhos rolled his eyes and zoned out, instead thinking about what he would need to do to become a member of the council. Speak to a council member, express interest, and when the seat is declared open, speak to the entire council.

  If Ramadus opens the position. Which he doesn’t have to. But that’s dumb. Does he want black magic underrepresented? Does he not want equal voices? Does he not want to ever be in the spot where he could be the deciding vote?! Why—

  “Hey,” Pagus said, and Typhos suddenly became self-conscious of his heavy breathing. “You OK?”

  Typhos deliberately slowed his breathing and turned to his friend, but not far enough to see his face. He gave a short nod and turned his attention back to Fargus. Pagus said nothing more.

  “… satisfied with our choice. Let me speak no further, and instead, swear in our new chief.”

  Fargus went to the other side of the platform that Ramadus stood on, still with that ugly grin that Typhos loathed. Fargus walked with some difficulty, taking each step one at a time. Ramadus said, “Take your time, chief,” in a clearly sarcastic tone, one soft enough that only the other councilors and the first row heard it, but it enraged Typhos even further, who gave thought to “accidentally” shooting a spell off.

  But the firm hand of Pagus ended that possibility.

  “Repeat after me. I, Ramadus Espa.”

  “I, Ramadus Espa,” Ramadus said with way too much pompousness for Typhos’ ears.

  “Do swear to lead, support and raise the Kastori.”

  “Do swear to lead, uh, raise, uh… yeah, the Kastori.”

  Typhos didn’t bother hiding his horror as he put his head in his hands. A few murmurs broke out but didn’t go much further.

  “I give my life to this role.”

  “I give my life to this role.”

  At least he can get something right.

  “And I will lead the council with justice.”

  “And I will lead the council with justice.”

  “For all on Anatolus.”

  “For all on Anatolus,” Ramadus yelled in a pitch that drew laughter from almost everyone. Sure knows how serious this role is. Lovely.

  “Thank you. To the Kastori… I present to you, your new chief, Ramadus Espa.”

  The crowd cheered wildly, and Typhos looked back. They weren’t just cheering at this point—they were going insane. So stupid. Just remember, it’s good when you get to that point where you’re controlling them.

  Mocking Ramadus, Typhos held his hands high and clapped sarcastically. He knew Ramadus had to have seen him, but, with the realization that most people on Anatolus bent closer to Ramadus’ beliefs than Typhos’, the boy felt no shame in mocking the new chief. Not like I can lose anything else.

  Ramadus cleared his throat and spoke.

  “Hi,” he said, but his voice was far too distant. Fargus came up and put his hand on the shoulder of the new chief, and Ramadus spoke again.”Hi! Sorry, Fargus reminded me I need to project more.”

  Laughter came, but to Typhos, it was yet another reminder.

  I can’t be the only one who feels this way. Some of the council members have to feel this way too. Surely whoever voted against him.

  “I come before you to serve you, the Kastori,” he said, with heavy emphasis on the last three words.

  The crowd applauded more, leaving Typhos wondering why the Kastori focused so much on the emotion of what Ramadus said and not any of the substance.

  “I know that we have suffered much tragedy in the last year. First, the loss of our long-time chief and still consultant, Adus.”

  Adanus, you idiot. Really. Really. You disrespect my father’s name like that.

  Typhos paused. He so disliked his father but was willing to use the mistake of Ramadus as a reason to hate the new chief. Could he have it both ways?

  It’s Ramadus. Yes, yes you can.

  “Recently, we found out that our chief, the one I am replacing, Aidus—”

  Wow.

  Typhos didn’t bother to hide his exasperation because he didn’t think anyone would hold it against him. My parents. Even that has to overrule the love for Ramadus.

  “Died. It is a tragic time. We must never forget the good that they did for all of us, and the direction that they sent us in.”

  Butcher my name. I dare you.

  “But, good news!”

  Of course you don’t. Coward.

  The crowd perked up. What could possibly be good news about anything today?

  “No longer will we have turmoil on the council. No longer will we have tragedy strike. I am young, vigorous and ready to work. I am prepared to give everything I have, and not just for a few years, but for a long time. I intend to be chief for life, and with my youth, you know what that means!”

  Typhos grimaced at the applause that came. It gnawed at him like a thorn digging its way deeper and deeper into his skin. This is getting torturous. He disrespected their names, he said he would stay on forever…

  “We have much work to do, so I will keep this short. But know that I, Ramadus Espa, am here for you now and for the rest of your lives!”

  Well glad that’s done with. But wow, all this applause… I never thought Anatolus would sink this low.

  I never imagined anyone could so easily manipulate the Kastori.

  Typhos slowly clapped, so slow it could’ve been mocking, but also at a comfortable enough pace that he could argue he was merely applauding slowly. He was sincere in one part—he was applauding that the speech had ended.

  Ramadus stood behind the council members, who walked back through the crowd in the same formation. When Ramadus passed by Typhos, he offered his hand to shake it. Not wanting to cause a scene, Typhos shook it, but he shot a look at Ramadus with his steeled, cold expression that matched the intensity of the grip he gave in his handshake. It said one thing.

  I will take your job. You are not for long.

  But Ramadus was either too giddy or stupid to notice and immediately went to the next person. Ramadus continued down the open aisle, shaking hands with everyone he could along the aisle. When he and the council members finally reached the end, and they all teleported back to the peak of Mount Ardor, Typhos left without even saying goodbye to Pagus. He ignored the throngs of people laughing and conversing and tried his best to ignore those who sounded excited about Ramadus’ rule. He went to his favorite spot for isolation and looked up at Mount Ardor.

  You had better fill that council position, Ramadus.

  I will make you if you don’t.

  37

  One year later, Typhos’ fears had come true.

  Ramadus had not filled the black magic councilor role. He didn’t even seem interested, and despite Typhos’ constant requests to Garron and even Fargus to push Ramadus to fill the role, Typhos never heard even a possibility of positive news. The constant bad news of the last two years had aged the boy drastically, who remained a teenager physically but carried the emotional and mental burden of a man more than twice his age. Ramadus seemed disinterested in advancing the Kastori, for its people never went to new worlds—at least, not to Typhos’ knowledge, who now knew almost everything there was to know. Its population never learned new magic. It remained stagnant as a race, and Typhos laid the blame squarely at the feet of the new chief.

  You have to suck it up.

  You want to be a councilor…

  You have to talk to Ramadus himself.

  Typhos hated the idea. But he hated the possibility of a future with no role even further. Working with Ramadus will suck terribly. But you’ve seen what inertia and lack of activity do to you. You need to go. Once there, kick him out. Or, why not, just kill him.

  But don’t just stand there.

  Go.

  Even though Ramadus wouldn’t leave the council for another hour
, Typhos teleported as far south as he could, not caring if he accidentally wound up in the ocean. He pleasantly surprised himself by landing about a mile outside the outpost, a positive sign for his still-growing red magic skills. He meandered casually, wanting to seem like he was there for a friendly visit. Just outside of the first tent—the gold one, Ramadus’—a young woman walked by.

  “Hi,” Typhos said, trying to get her attention. She turned around, and Typhos recognized her immediately. “Reya! Long time no see!”

  “Likewise!” she said excitedly, but her face soon turned to concern. “You don’t look good, Typhos, are you OK?”

  “Well, you know how the last couple of years have been,” he said, trying to move past the topic quickly. “Anyways, I’m wondering if you have seen Ramadus return today, and if so, do you know where he is?”

  “Well, no, he hasn’t come back yet. You could wait by the entrance—”

  “No, I want to wait here,” Typhos said, referencing Ramadus’ home. “I want to make sure I get an audience with him. It’s important.”

  And that he knows I’m always going to be a thorn in his side and not go anywhere.

  “Oh… OK,” Reya said, a bit surprised by his audacity.

  Doesn’t matter. If she’s like the rest of them, she can easily forget that when the time is right. And since she’s my age, that’s likely.

  Reya continued on her errand, and Typhos sat down at the entrance to Ramadus’ tent, content to stare at the golden sky and setting sun.

  His mother flashed in his mind.

  “No,” he said.

  Why now? You wait a year, and now—

  Another image appeared. But once again, his mother didn’t look like the mother who had left him. She looked closer to Ramadus in age than she actually was.

  But more disturbingly to Typhos, she was holding a child. A young boy.

  He didn’t have time to make out any details of the child. But it was his half-brother.

  No! Get out! I hate you! I hate you both!

  “No!” he grunted to himself.