“Who did you—”
“Typhos, please,” Garron said, and Typhos bit his tongue. “Your questions will all be answered soon, OK?”
If I cannot depend on the vote of my best relationship on the council…
Typhos’ legs became wobbly, and he closed his eyes as someone summoned the two of them to the summit. He and Garron glided up the steps and toward the peak, an ominous feeling creeping into the young man.
When they reached the top, the council stood as it had when Typhos first presented his case, save for Garron, who quickly walked to his spot. A woman in thick black robes stood to the side of where Typhos stopped. He stole a glance at her, but the darkness and robes made it impossible for him to make out any details of her.
He felt a powerful sensation coming from her, however. Her energy felt enormously familiar. Definitely older. Strong, too. Almost as strong as me. Super strong black and red magic, actually.
Could…
No way.
“Typhos,” Ramadus mumbled.
Typhos turned his attention away from the older woman and smiled at Ramadus.
“Thank you both for coming. This was a tough election, one in which it gives us no pride and joy to have to say we can only pick one of you. Typhos Kaos, your skills are impeccable, and the lineage you provide us is great. We have no doubt that you have much wisdom passed down from your mother and your father.”
Something stirred in Typhos, but he ignored it, choosing to bow instead and saying, “Thank you, sir.” The way he’s speaking…
“Erda Orran,” Ramadus began, and Typhos found that to be an odd name. Never heard of an Orran here on Anatolus. And I know just about every potential competitor who has any power worth noticing. “Your wisdom is great, your experience is great, and the humility which you possess is great. We have no doubt that though you may not have the sometimes reckless youth of others—”
Really?
Stay focused. Come on.
“—you will have the vigor.”
“Thank you,” she cooed.
That voice.
That voice.
No. No way.
I know that voice. Or what essentially is that voice.
Turn to me. I need to confirm who you are.
He looked to his right and glared at the woman until she would look over. She never did, and Typhos returned his attention to the bumbling Ramadus. Don’t leave until you see her. If she really is her…
“To the both of you, we thank you for your decision to run. It takes courage to run for the council, and you both have that in spades.”
Come on. Just get to the point.
Ramadus looked at each of them silently. Typhos felt a cold gust blow through the council as robes ruffled in the air. Bad sign.
“At this time, we have chosen to elect Erda Orran as our sixth council member.”
So.
So that’s the way it’s going to be, huh.
I hate you, Ramadus.
I will find a way to build power. I will disappear. You will not hear from me for a long time.
And then I will make you suffer. You will wish you were dead, but death is not a mercy I will grant you.
“Typhos, you are indeed powerful, but at this time, you are not fit for the council. The council has concerns about your attitude. At times, you are arrogant, petulant, and contentious.”
The council, or you? Or are you too stupid to realize that?
“Though we all have our flaws, the council thought that these flaws overwhelmed your candidacy and that you were best served working on them until the next spot opened up. If you have anything to say, you may now.”
Typhos took three very firm steps forward, the better so he could turn around and face the woman whose identity he was almost certain of. He bowed exaggeratedly to Ramadus, by now no longer caring about getting the council. The traditional means would never work as long as Ramadus held the title of chief.
“Thank you,” he said with a long drawl, meant to mock Ramadus. “I will take this input under consideration and will use it to carefully figure out my next action. Erda.”
Typhos walked over to her, so close he could put his arm on her. He could sense an extreme amount of nervousness from her. As you should if you are…
“Congratulations. You will do a fine job.”
She looked up, and every part of Typhos erupted except his exterior expression.
It was his mother.
It didn’t look like his mother from years ago. This woman had far more wrinkles and looked more like an elder than she did a mother.
But Typhos could recognize anyone by the eyes, and the eyes very much remained the same.
I guess you had to run away from something on Monda or wherever you went, huh. Poor Aida. Poor, poor Aida. Or should I say “Erda.” Pathetic. You may have given birth to me, but you are not my mother. My mother died the day my father died. You are just a pitiful excuse for a Kastori inhabiting the body my mother had.
I hate you. I… I hate you. I… I…
No further thoughts came as Typhos struggled with his emotions. Erda bowed her head back. Typhos sensed much pain from her, which he wanted to encourage. Let her suffer, he thought. She should suffer knowing she failed as my mother and has to start from the bottom of the council.
But that is your mother. However you want to slice it.
He quickly looked around. Do they know who this is? She has to be casting a spell. All that red magic… if she was the former chief, she’s got more power than anyone here.
Wow.
How easy it is to fool even the council with a little trick.
Too bad for her I once loved her and can never forget those eyes. If I wanted to help the council, I’d call you out right now.
But Typhos had given that up. He trusted no one. He could rely on no one. He loved no one because no one seemed to love him. Everyone close to him abandoned him and lied to him. His mother had disappeared, unable to bear the grief of losing her husband, and now she was back here under an assumed identity. Did someone she love on Monda die too? Why is she back here? Some redeeming return she wants?
“You are dismissed, Typhos,” Ramadus said, and before he could get another word in, Typhos was teleported back to the hill. He looked up at the mountain, cursed the name of Ramadus, and decided the days of even thinking about playing by the rules were over.
He would take matters into his bloody hands.
42
Typhos rushed to the home of Ramadus and scurried past all the occupied tents, looking for the one belonging to Ramadus. The golden fabric of the tent quickly revealed itself, and the young man took a quick glance around. No one looked at him, and only two Kastori meandered within viewing distance. He ran inside and trashed the place with unnerving quiet. He tossed things on the ground—but made sure not to create too much noise. He burned old papers, save one, which discussed ancient monsters—but not with a flame that would’ve had a scent.
And he found something he knew would give him even more courage—alcohol. He grabbed an open bottle, took a sniff, nefariously smiled, and drank the wine like a dying man guzzling water.
You sure you want to go down this road? You’re already in trouble. You’ll never get the council now. The people will abandon you.
But every time the thoughts became louder, he took another gulp of wine.
You’ll go to jail forever. Maybe even face execution. Typhos tilted the bottle of wine back and smeared his lips over his right arm. They don’t scare me.
You’ll never get the council. Another gulp. Don’t need them. Don’t need Ramadus, don’t need Garron, don’t need Fargus and most of all, don’t need that woman with the body of my mother.
All your friends will abandon you.
You need them, Typhos. You can’t win against an entire race. No matter how powerful you are.
But instead of using the realization as a moment of sobriety, he used it as a justification for drinking further, and
within less than ten minutes had consumed the entire bottle of wine.
Not enough to kill Ramadus. Not enough to execute him. Make him suffer. Make him feel pain. Make him agonize over all of the horrible choices he’s ever made. Make him realize true power isn’t some stupid politics but by my hand.
Yes. Find out who voted for “Erda.” Kill them all.
Even Erda. Even her.
Typhos threw the bottle of wine to the ground, producing a louder sound than he had hoped for. But in doing so, he saw something that made him excited.
A sharp, freshly created knife with a fine enough of an edge that just touching the blade cut Typhos’ finger.
He sensed the presence of more Kastori returning, and once he sensed it safe, he made a dash outside and went to the rear of the tent. Typhos knew at any moment the target of his vengeance would return. He walked into the field and cast a shadow spell on himself while putting his mask on. Combined with the night, the spell made him practically invisible. He gripped the handle of the blade tightly, the color of his knuckles vanishing.
Die. Die. Die. Die. Die.
The chief appeared from a teleportation spell a couple of minutes later, unaware of Typhos. In fact, he seemed to walk directly toward the invisible young man, much to the pleasant glee of the vengeful one.
Once within range, Typhos drove the knife into Ramadus’ right thigh. The chief screamed as blood squirted from his leg, covering the now-visible robes of the hate-filled young man. Typhos quickly cast a sound barrier around them, rendering Ramadus’ screams moot to the outside world. He stared down at the chief, his hands on the leg, crying as he alternated between trying to remove the knife and grimacing from the sharp burning fire it produced.
“Nothing beats the sweet, sweet music of hearing the voice of the person you hate the most scream,” Typhos said.
He knelt before the chief, who looked at him with horror.
“Who are you?!?”
Typhos gave a sardonic laugh and, still kneeling, removed his mask. His face expressed utter contempt for the man before him, and he made no attempt to ease his pain.
“I am the worst thing that’s ever happened to you.”
Typhos stood up and crossed his arms, shaking his head.
“Ramadus. You are finally getting what’s coming to you.”
“What?! Why?”
The questions angered Typhos as he unfolded his arms and punched Ramadus in the jaw, planting his face in the ground. He reached down and withdrew the knife from Ramadus, drawing a sharp screech of pain. He tossed the knife behind him and grabbed Ramadus by the hair, bringing them face to face.
“Ramadus, you are a fool, for you don’t even know what you’ve done,” Typhos said. “You elected that… that woman over me. You know the power I possess. You know that if you had just given me what I wanted, that I would be much more inclined to follow you. Sure, I would have eventually tried to overthrow you and your incompetence out, but I don’t think I would’ve had to quite take it this far.”
And yet, even after Typhos explained everything, Ramadus still looked more confused than fearful. Of course. Did you really think torturing him would make him realize how stupid he is?
Well, time to have some fun.
Typhos held out his hand, lifted the bloodied mess off the ground, and flipped him upside down. He placed his hand on Ramadus’ skull, squeezing tight.
“Help!” Ramadus cried out.
“Don’t bother,” Typhos said. “No one will hear you. And by the time your friends on the council sense you, you’ll be gone. The only question is how quickly it’ll happen, and that all depends on how much you help me here. But first, why don’t you get to know what my suffering was like.”
With that, Typhos cast a fire spell on the chief’s head, burning all of his hair and much of his scalp. Typhos’ hand got caught in the fire, and the skin on his fingers became charred and melted away. But Typhos had become so wrapped up in the torture of the chief that he didn’t feel any pain. He didn’t even bother to heal himself. He let the hand turn to half-bone.
“Who voted for Erda?” Typhos spat.
Ramadus didn’t answer, an intentional decision, and Typhos tightened his grip on the man’s skull, crunching it.
“This will only get worse for you, Ramadus. Tell me what you know, and—”
“It was unanimous, Typhos, we all voted for Erda,” he gasped.
“WHAT?!?” Typhos said, and his fire increased to the point that some of the flames reached his own face. But the pain didn’t stop him—in fact, as he realized what would happen, he encouraged it. Let the people see my scars and the blood on my robes. Let them know I have done this before and will do it again.
And let them know it will start with the members of the council.
“It’s, it’s true Typhos, we all know how much power you have, but we thought you weren’t mature enough to—”
“But you were mature enough to allow my mother back on the council? After the way she abandoned me and left me to turn into this?!?”
I hate hate hate hate hate… hate… HATE you!
“What, I—”
“You know, Ramadus, you idiot, do not lie to me,” Typhos said, though he began to suspect Ramadus didn’t know. “You didn’t see her eyes? The way she talked? You really didn’t see the eyes and hear the voice of Aida?”
“Typhos I swear it! She’s just a teacher of black magic! I don’t know—”
But Typhos was growing impatient. He clenched tighter and intensified the flame.
“Give me a position on the council, Ramadus, and I may yet spare you. You will be my puppet, but you will live.”
Ramadus looked at Typhos, and for the first time since Typhos had ever seen him, the man did not look confused or stupid or annoyingly happy. He looked angry.
“The council is no one’s puppet, Typhos. Kill me, I don’t care. All of the other Kastori will hunt you down.”
“You’re wrong,” Typhos said. “You’re wrong!”
“One man cannot defeat an entire race,” Ramadus said. “Your parents would be ashamed of you.”
Typhos raged as he crushed the chief’s skull with a magically enhanced grip and a powerful fire spell. In doing so, an ember launched and landed in his left eye, causing the young man to recoil in agony and drop the sound barrier spell and the chief’s body to the ground. He quickly used his powers to heal, but he had lost vision in his left eye. He reached for his mask, put it on, and had the magical vision of his left eye that only his mask could achieve.
He stared down at his robes and smelled the fresh blood of the chief on them. He looked at the body on the ground, without an identifiable face, the head crumpled into half its original size.
“Good riddance,” Typhos spat. “Pathetic.”
He turned to walk away, but just after the first step, he felt an overwhelming amount of energy course through him. It brought him to his knees and left him gasping for air as it felt like the energy would kill him. The experience lasted just a few seconds but felt like the most overwhelming sensation he’d ever felt in his life.
Then it finished.
“What just… what?”
Typhos mumbled to himself as he removed his mask and looked at himself. He still looked the same. His right hand was burned badly, with two of the fingers reduced to nothing but bone. He felt his face, and he had a big burn across his left side. His left eye still didn’t function.
But he didn’t feel the same. He felt like… he felt like his powers had just tripled.
He focused on casting a lightning spell and was frightened by the ability to summon an intense amount of electricity at once—a spell more powerful than anything he’d created while wearing the mask. He could’ve scorched Ramadus’ entire town at that moment, were it not for the fact that he wanted to do nothing with them. They may yet serve me, anyways.
But the relationship was clear. The council’s first big secret had revealed itself to the most powerful Kastori
.
“So,” Typhos said, a sadistic grin coming to his face. “This was one of your precious secrets, Ramadus. Kill a Kastori and absorb his power. It’s too bad your sorrowful excuse for chiefdom taught me that lesson. But now your powers will actually get put to good use.”
He looked back at the body lying on the ground and incinerated it to nothing but ashes with a fire spell. He stared at the body menacingly as it burned. He wanted nothing left of Ramadus. Nothing could remain. When only ashes remained, Typhos cast a wind spell that blew the ashes away, dispersing them into specks so small they couldn’t even be coughed up.
Typhos slowly laughed as he walked away, teleporting back to his home, satisfied with what he had done and in a stupor from both the alcohol and the sensation of conquering the incompetent chief.
But when he reached home, he came face to face with the realization he didn’t actually want to kill all of the council.
43
Garron trembled at the top of the hill, his eyes filled with sorrow as Typhos hiked to meet him. Anyone but this. Anyone but this. Anyone but this.
“What have you done?” Garron asked, his eyes blatantly looking at the blood stains on Typhos’ robes and the scorched right hand.
He knows. He knows.
“I righted a wrong,” Typhos said. “I corrected the mistakes of the council.”
And in the process, demonstrated the power that I will bring to the council.
“Typhos,” Garron said, his voice weak. “Typhos. You… Why?”
“Because Ramadus was a fool!” Typhos shouted, but he quickly calmed himself as he looked at the face of Garron, the councilor’s eyes watering. He cleared his throat. You have to ask this. Even though you know the answer.
“Garron. Did you vote against me?”
Garron gave a slow nod. Why, Garron. Why? Of all the councilors…
“I have always believed in you, Typhos, and I still do. I didn’t become a member of the council until I was forty. These things don’t—”
“And did you vote for my mother?” Typhos said with unsettling calm.
Garron said nothing at first, but his facial reaction looked exactly like Ramadus’—confused and caught off-guard.
Kastori Tribulations (The Kastori Chronicles Book 3) Page 17
