Kastori Tribulations (The Kastori Chronicles Book 3)

by Stephen Allan

  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.

  But he climbed the final steps and saw her standing, her head bowed, saddened eyes on her face. Behind her, the black magic statue with the sword he wanted remained. But he couldn’t focus on the sword for long because his mother’s grief-stricken eyes got to him.

  No! Focus, Typhos. You know what you are here to do. So do it.

  “Erda,” he sneered.

  51

  Present Day

  “I knew this was coming,” Erda said without pleading. “As soon as I sensed that you had killed Ramadus, I knew that I had lost you. There is nothing that I can do to bring back the cheerful boy that I still love and know is in you somewhere. The man I look at now is not my son, but the body of my son inhabited by a dark spirit. I acknowledge that we, as a council, and I, as your mother, failed to help. I always thought you would turn into a great man. But I did not do my part.”

  Typhos bit his lip as he raised the sword but, without thinking about it, took two steps backward.

  “Typhos, understand, I have failed you in many ways. Many, many ways. But if I had not gone to Monda, I would have failed others in even worse ways. Someone had to suffer, and I believed you would best handle it.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?!” Typhos spat.

  “You know you’re not my only son. You know that if I had raised him here, away from his father and his home—”

  “Oh, I know, Erda, I most certainly know,” Typhos growled. “And I’m going to make a promise that I know I will keep. I will kill the other son. I don’t know when. But I will. I am your only son. Not the offspring of some human.”

  “You wouldn’t dare!” Erda cried, the most emotional she had gotten.

  “Watch me,” Typhos sneered. “And Monda’s going to face just as much death as the boy is.”

  Trick is finding that boy. I can’t sense humans like I can sense Kastori.

  But he’s got some Kastori blood in him.

  As long as it’s not repressed.

  You know killing him won’t really help.

  No. It will. It has to!

  “Why?!? Typhos, stop! Please! I am begging you! End the death, end the madness!”

  “End it?” Typhos said with a sinister laugh. “OK, fine. I’ll end it.”

  He retook his two steps forward and held the blade aloft.

  “Right after I kill you.”

  He swung his sword down.

  But Typhos chopped to the side, the thought of killing his own mother stopping him and making him scream in agony. The rush of memories of better days gave him an emotional moment that he could not ignore.

  The times we laughed, as fleeting as they were before I turned fifteen.

  Supporting each other at Dad’s funeral.

  Leaning on each other after, the stupid quarrels over the council and me shadowing.

  I hate it.

  But I really don’t.

  “I hate you!” Typhos screamed as he slammed the blade into the ground in frustration. “What magic are you using to keep me in line? What?! Tell me!”

  “None,” Erda said, a statement Typhos knew was true. “I’m your mother. You’re my son. You’re family. You don’t kill your family. And on top of that, you know you will not advance the people of Anatolus through death, Typhos. Advancing the people by moving to a new planet means nothing if you do not bring with it the ethics and values that the Kastori hold so dear.”

  Remember, Typhos, she abandoned you. She left you for another child. This is not the way your mother should act. Thus, she’s not your mother.

  Kill her.

  “Enough!” Typhos said, and he reached down and pulled the sword out of the ground, holding it to his mother’s face. He held it so close that when he touched it to her cheek, he drew blood. But every time he prepared to swing the sword across her neck or over her head, his muscles became weak, tense, and unable to deliver the mortal blow. He gave up after his third failed attempt to kill her.

  “You are lucky I am not strong enough to do what I should,” Typhos said as he held the sword in his hand, gripping it tightly. “But life itself is not the blessing that you think it may be. You will live with the knowledge of what you have done to me and what I have become. And you will live with the knowledge that you abandoned a second son on Monda.”

  “Not just…” Erda said, but she suddenly went silent.

  “Not just what?” Typhos said mockingly.

  His mother did not respond.

  “It matters little. The whole planet will soon be engulfed in flames, and whatever other secrets you have there will burn with it or die at this, my new sword. And as for you, even if I cannot kill you, Erda, you will soon live in isolation, on an island of your own, hiding from people who will not have the same holdups about killing you that I mysteriously have. This is on you, Erda. You brought this about.”

  “Stop calling me Erda,” she said pleadingly.

  “What would you have me call you?”

  “The phrase that you always used for me.”

  She gulped. Typhos did too.

  “Mom.”

  Typhos felt sick, and as much as he wanted to kill her, a part of him wanted to toss the sword to the side. Throw the mask off. Heal his wounds. Hug his mother. Go back to the way things were.

  “Mom” was a painful word. His rational mind told him that this was an untrustworthy, terrible woman. His emotional mind and heart told him that this was his mother, whom he should love through all things.

  “Mom,” he said as if testing the word. It tasted… too sweet with an aftertaste of bitterness. It was a reminder of the good times, yes, but it reminded him of when he cried out her name, begging for her to return, and she never fully did. “No, my mother left me to go to Monda years ago. The woman who stands before me has her body, but not her spirit. You live now, but you should run. Others will not be as weak as I will.”

  “Others,” Erda said. “Do you believe they will follow you? Others will know what you’ve done. They will say you kill in rage, that you only seek your own goals. That your own people are mere pawns. And I will warn you, Typhos, you do not have the majority of the Kastori on your side. In fact, you are a small fraction of the population. You would not survive against us if war came.”

  “You are so correct,” Typhos said, sneering, though he knew Erda was right. I have to have something to tilt the battle in my favor. Something that would devastate them. “But my people are mine because they believe in what I do, not what your pathetic remains of a council
do.”

  With that, Typhos turned and went to the top of the stairs before turning his head back one last time to look at his mother. It was her—the same eyes. The same facial expression. He shuddered to think of what would have happened if she had laid her hand on him, and he’d felt her… comforting… touch.

  “War is coming,” Typhos said. “I will hunt down and annihilate anyone who opposes us. You seem to be the exception for now, but do not assume such luck will continue. Someday I will grow in my resolve enough to kill you, and I will not be so sympathetic when the time comes.”

  He teleported down to the outpost, the black magic sword still in his hands and confusion, bitter disappointment, and grief on his mind.

  52

  A group of Kastori gathered before Typhos, who dwelled in silence before he spoke. He took a few minutes to reflect on his failure and told himself he would not wait for the next time he got a chance to strike at Erda. He raised his hand to speak but paused.

  Erda was speaking. And not just to him, but to all Kastori.

  “The former savior Typhos has waged war on the council. The council has already lost Ramadus, Garron, and Fargus, and is at risk of losing more. All Kastori, please come to the mountain to defend the council. We must prepare for a long and unfortunate battle as Typhos does not appear willing to surrender at this time.”

  So that’s how we’re going to play it, Erda. You’re going to try and draw sympathy from me when I’m in front of you, but you’re going to call and turn everyone else against me.

  So be it.

  “Kastori!” he yelled, and the crowd cheered. Any residual emotions he was feeling from the encounter with his mother vanished as he faced his supporters with a huge smile on his face. So much for your plan working, Erda. You failed.

  “As you well know, Erda has just sent a message out to the people. She says that a long and unfortunate battle is coming and that I am unwilling to surrender. Well, I’ll tell you this—only one of those is true.”