It was another fighting a being with no expression and no soul, even if just beneath that mask Crystil knew a being resided. It felt like fighting an abstract enemy.
“We don’t want to hurt you,” Celeste said. “We’re sorry. We just wanted some water and—”
The magicologist put its hand up, but to Crystil’s surprise, it was not to cast a spell but to signal silence.
“Your commander does not think like you,” the magicologist said in a garbled female voice. “She wants to kill me. She wants to kill all of the Kastori.”
“I will make sure she doesn’t,” Celeste said in a tone that left no doubt in the magicologist’s or Crystil’s mind. “What do you want?”
The magicologist—Kastori? Huh?—looked Celeste up and down, cautiously, without rush.
“We’ve been watching you for some time now, Celeste,” she said, saying her name with a haunting tone. “We have wondered when you and your friends would find us. And, more importantly, we wondered how our lupi would react to your presence. You will come with us now and finally bring us our planet back.”
“What!” Crystil exclaimed, and the magicologist slowly looked her way.
Even with nothing more than the blank white mask, Crystil felt like she was looking at the face of evil. She had too many memories of magicologists causing her friends to spontaneously combust, bringing down airships with the power of lightning, and choking the life out of survivors to believe this was anything but evil.
Suddenly, Crystil couldn’t even talk. Her mouth remained open, and she could breath but could not do anything else.
“Your commander should learn when she’s at a disadvantage,” the magicologist said. “You will come with us. You can either come voluntarily, or I can force you to come.”
“Amira!” an older woman’s voice from the far distance called.
The magicologist turned her head, and turned back to Celeste.
“We will come, just don’t hurt us,” Celeste said.
The magicologist nodded, waved her hands, and Crystil suddenly felt lost consciousness, her last thought wondering if they had just been captured for their execution.
40
“You said you wouldn’t hurt them!” Celeste cried as she watched Crystil and Cyrus collapse to the ground.
“They are unhurt,” the hooded magicologist, whom Celeste assumed was Amira, said. “We will move them to a tent where they will wake up without their weapons. I sensed disturbing hostility in them and will not tolerate any further danger to the Kastori.”
Celeste pursed her lips as questions danced in their head. Are these actual magicologists, or just a coincidentally similar group? Why Kastori? What did Amira mean by further damage? Can they be trusted?
Just call them Kastori. Empathize.
“Show me where they will be taken,” Celeste said.
Amira turned and held up two fingers. From seemingly nowhere, two similar figures wearing white robes, one with a red mask and one with a black mask, approached Cyrus and Celeste and picked them up.
“Come,” Amira said, and Celeste did as they all walked to a small white tent next to the furthest one back, the golden one.
Inside the tent, the two white-robed Kastori gently laid Cyrus and Crystil on the ground, held their hands up for about three seconds, and nodded to Amira. Amira held up both hands, lifting Crystil’s machine gun and Cyrus’ flamethrower. With a tightening of both her hands, the weapons crumpled, reduced to nothing but useless scraps of plastic and metal.
“Leave us,” Amira said to the other Kastori. “This is my discussion now.”
The white-robed Kastori left, but not before appearing to give Amira a long look. When they left, Amira turned her attention to Celeste. Even through the mask, Celeste felt hateful eyes gazing upon her.
“Why have you come here?”
Celeste gulped. She felt she had no leverage and no position to do anything but the truth. But she also sensed that Amira carried a facade—a tough act, as it were, that betrayed nerves, inexperience, or something else. Celeste wanted information too, and that started with the Kastori in front of her.
“I’ll answer that when I know whom I’m speaking to.”
Celeste sensed the annoyance in Amira, but the Kastori quickly reached up with one hand and removed the white eyepiece while bowing her head. She removed the top of her robes. She had striking orange hair that, now unfurled, reached below her shoulders, and green eyes that showed a hardened exterior. Unlike Crystil, who had some good in her past, Celeste sensed an utterly dark past in the young girl, who looked younger than her.
“I am Amira. I am one of the councilors of this refuge, the last known outpost of the Kastori on Anatolus. Now, answer my question. Why did you come here?”
Celeste still felt unease but knew she had to live up to her end of the bargain.
“Our planet was ravaged by war, between us and the magicologists. They dressed like you, so we assumed…”
She didn’t finish her statement, seeing hatred in the eyes of Amira.
“The war started out small, but it got deadly enough that my Dad, the emperor, sent about fifty ships out to space. Only ours made it, and only three of us survived among the original ten crew members. We were sent here to try and continue humanity in a place without war, without trouble.”
Amira sneered at Celeste, and though the younger Orthran tried to remain tall, the young girl’s power frightened her.
“Without war? Without trouble? Have you seen Calypsius? You are blind if you have not.”
“You mean the monster in the sky?”
“What else would I mean? The monster that has ravaged our planet for years now, the one that has sent us underground and continues to hunt for us, even as we burrow deeper.”
Celeste felt panic.
“Oh, you thought you found a safe spot on this planet? Think again. We have tried everything, but Calypsius is a merciless beast. Ever since it was created, it has brought about the annihilation of nearly all Kastori. I am a councilor because everyone else who has had this role was killed by Calypsius. It is only toying with you if it has not yet killed you.”
Enough.
“Like you toy with us?” Celeste said. “I am sorry that the monster has destroyed your race. But we did not know about it when we arrived. If we did, we wouldn’t have come to your planet. We would’ve gone somewhere else. But…”
Celeste sighed.
“If we had a way of defeating it, we could help, but—”
“Which you may,” Amira interrupted. “At least, that’s what Erda thinks.”
“Erda?”
“Yes. She has watched all of you from afar with great interest. You have the capability with your ship and your technology, combined with our magic, to bring the great beast down and allow us to reclaim our home. I…”
It was the first time Amira hesitated.
“I will bring you to her. You will discuss with her ways to bring Calypsius down.”
“Woah, wait,” Celeste said, putting her hands up, raising her voice over Amira. “I, too, would like to destroy Calypsius. And I want you guys to be safe. But if we’re helping you, we want some help back too.”
“That’s for you to negotiate,” Amira said spitefully.
Celeste had never felt so annoyed by anyone. Is this how we were to the magicologists—Kastori—on Monda? No wonder there was war. But she pushed aside her thoughts and turned to her brother and commander.
“I understand and will do so, Amira. But please awaken my friends.”
“Very well, but you will be taken immediately to Erda then.”
Amira put her robe and mask back on, covering her face and hiding the long, beautiful hair. Celeste again felt a cold chill looking at the Kastori. Amira raised both of her hands, and, seconds later, Crystil and Cyrus groggily woke up. Celeste went between them, her hands on both of them, alternating attention between both of them.
“My gun,” Crystil said, and she stared
furiously at the still-robed Amira. “You.”
“Crystil,” Celeste said. “We’re fine. We’re not getting hurt. You have to trust me here, OK?”
“Trust that we’ll get knocked out again?” Cyrus said.
“Come,” Amira said as she walked to the entrance of the tent.
Crystil shot Celeste an angry look, and Celeste knew she had the cold, ruthless commander back on her hands. Crystil got to her feet on her own as Celeste helped pull Cyrus to his feet.
“You get a pass here because of what you did with the lupi,” Crystil said. “But you had better know what you’re doing.”
“I do,” Celeste lied.
41
Crystil had never felt so much raw anger toward Celeste. She woke up with no weapons, at the complete mercy of the beings that had killed her husband, her emperor, and her home and had to trust an inexperienced young girl.
If not for the presence of the magicologist a mere five feet from her and her ability to paralyze with just the motion of her hand, Crystil might’ve done to Celeste what she did to Cyrus back in space. She let rage flow to her fists, which she clenched tightly, and her face, which felt hot to the touch. The goodwill Celeste had garnered for her actions against the lupi was fading rapidly.
“We’re dead if you don’t know what you’re doing,” Crystil said, barely getting the words out.
“You’re headed that way if you don’t follow me,” the magicologist said.
“If you’re just going to kill us, then you might as well do it now and save us all the trouble of wondering if we can escape.”
“Oh, you can’t,” Amira said. “Truth be told, I don’t trust anything that doesn’t come from this camp. You can thank Erda for staying alive. If you had stumbled upon here by mistake, I’d read you for all of the information and then kill you.”
Crystil mumbled under her breath numerous swears to Amira. Crystil refused to apologize or back down, staring at the soulless mask that gave no indication of Amira’s feelings.
The magicologist walked out of the tent, and Celeste followed. Feeling no choice in the matter, Crystil trailed her.
“Tough cookie, that one, huh?” Cyrus said behind Crystil, who ignored the comment.
Crystil noticed the number of tents before, but coming out of one made her realize how small and sparse a colony it was. If this was all that remained, Anatolus had as much bad luck as Monda did. The tents seemed poorly constructed, with numerous tears visible.
Crystil begrudgingly followed Celeste and the magicologist to the front of the gold tent. Amira turned around, sending more shivers down Crystil’s spine. Every time she saw the mask, she could see through her sniper scope an ugly magicologist striking someone down with magic. In real life, she never missed. In her flashbacks, though, she always missed, feeling helpless.
“Wait here,” Amira said. “Erda does not take visitors unannounced.”
She ducked in, and Celeste just stood there. Crystil saw an opportunity to run and better prepare—maybe even pull out the one weapon she’d held in reserve, a weapon only she knew of—to fight the magicologists.
“Run,” she said, but to her surprise, Celeste grabbed her arm.
“Not yet,” Celeste said. “Amira is cold and brutal, but her life forces her to be. Someone older and from happier times may not be.”
“Our blood is on your hands if any of us even scrape our knees here,” Crystil whispered furiously.
Amira returned.
“Go. Erda is inside.”
Celeste nodded to Crystil, who tugged her arm away but walked inside the tent. Crystil had never felt so relieved to see Amira was not following.
When she looked ahead, Crystil saw three magicologists, two in black robes and one in red robes, each with the other color on their mask, surrounding one older woman, with her mask off and golden robes on. The woman had a relaxed seated posture, long gray hair, and beautiful blue eyes. The tent had no decorations, but the woman sat on an elevated platform with carpeting.
“Welcome, Celeste, Cyrus, and Crystil,” she said with a calm, maternal voice, slow and soothing. “My name is Erda, and I am the chief of the last known remaining town of the Kastori. I apologize for how Amira acted—she does not know what it means to trust anyone, and thus reacted poorly to your presence.”
“Thanks for not killing us yet,” Crystil said coldly.
Erda stood up and motioned for the other magicologists to leave. They did so, passing by the three humans out the door. Erda wore a sad smile on her face.
“I don’t want to kill you. I’ve seen too much death in my time here, almost all of it entirely unnecessary. I want to help you.”
“And why is that?” Crystil said.
“Because, in the interest of honesty, it will help us as well,” Erda said. “Our planet suffered far too many casualties at the hand of Calypsius, and before it, its creator, Typhos. Typhos brought destruction and annihilation to this world, much as he did to Monda.”
“You know,” Celeste said in disbelief, leaving Crystil to silently note that these were indeed the same magicologists who had killed her husband and many others. She could withhold action for now, unarmed and curious for information, but would not forget revenge at the appropriate time.
“We did our best to not let him escape. But he was too powerful, and when he summoned Calypsius, we had to commit our resources to stopping the monster. We couldn’t even succeed in that. Our best Kastori were wiped out, along with your planet. I’m sorry, Celeste. This is my fault.”
“No,” Celeste said, bringing a rise from Crystil that the commander barely managed to quell.
“Yes,” Erda said, and she turned to Crystil. “I know you hate my race, and that you still refer to us by the name humans have given us. I cannot blame you and will not try to change you. I only ask that you listen to the story of what happened, and why we are asking you for help.”
Crystil thought of giving a cold one-word answer, but instead just nodded. The Kastori, she acknowledged, were genuine here.
Or possibly great at faking it.
“Typhos. He was such a promising child, one of the most naturally gifted Kastori we’ve ever seen in our history. So much so, that some thought he would fulfill the legend that there would come a Kastori who could transcend death itself, and not just be immortal, but give life back to others. I had thought that Typhos could be that Kastori.”
Erda swallowed and paused for a long time, and when she resumed speaking, her voice shook.
“Instead, he brought about the near extinction of our race. He forced us underground, into hiding, hiding from both he and Calypsius. Hungry for power, he discovered how magic gets passed down and how to beat the time it takes for that to happen. He displayed no empathy, and slowly lost whatever mind he had as he gained more power.”
She sighed weakly.
“Which makes it all the more tragic from where he started.”
42
“Decades ago, the Kastori lived peacefully on Anatolus. For centuries, we kept our population small, the better to fit within the planet’s boundaries and respect what the world had given us. We ruled with a council of six and a chief. Of the six council members, we had two trained in the black magic of elements, two in the white magic of healing, and two in the red magic of sense. Those trained in the elements wear black, those in healing white, and those in sense red, and wore a mask of the color of their secondary power. The chief wore gold to represent that he or she understood all magic and could command such power responsibly and for the greater good of all. Together, these seven governed Kastori society and acted as the court of law whenever disputes came up.”
“Typically, the chief would serve until his or her death, at which point someone from the council would become the chief, and a new member would be added to the council from society. But… one day, a woman named Aida became chief not because of a death, but because of a resignation by an older man named Adanus. Adanus never said why he resigned, th
ough it was well known he and Aida loved each other, and most assumed he removed himself to appoint Aida himself. In any case, shortly after Aida became chief of the Kastori, Adanus and Aida had a child, and that child was Typhos.”
She’s speaking almost yearningly for the man who ruined Monda and Anatolus, Celeste thought. She seemed to want the days before Calypsius was even a possibility—no, more than that, when the name Typhos seemed like a gift and not a death wish.
“Immediately, even before the child could crawl, let alone walk, the Kastori perceived the child’s power. Even for a child of the previous two chiefs of the Kastori, the potential this child had went far beyond what people imagined. Some called him the savior. Others said it was false propaganda to ensure he’d become chief some day. In any case, Typhos had a great deal of attention on him from a young age, and he reveled in it. As he grew up, he loved to show off, displaying his magical talents in humorous, sometimes troublesome ways. If I were more perceptive and had paid better attention, I might have noticed how much he wanted to prove he could escape his parents’ shadow.”
Her voice wavered at the end, and Erda had to cough to recover her focus.
“But what complaints I did hear, I just dismissed as the common one of a child of powerful parents. But things got dark for him in just six months.”
Celeste felt a chill go through her.
“Adanus died suddenly on Typhos’ fifteenth birthday, and the child did not handle it well. He was angry at his father for leaving him so soon and on such an important day. We all offered all of the support we could, but Typhos angrily rejected it, saying he didn’t need our help. Poor Aida felt overwhelmed with grief and only did her chief duties as needed. Out in public, she had the look of someone who could never get past losing her husband. But as bad as that was, it got worse a few months later, when Aida disappeared. We all eventually accepted that she had killed herself, grief stricken over the loss of her husband, as no one could sense her presence anywhere. If his father’s death had riled up Typhos, his mother’s death sent him into a dark, lonely, disturbing place that made him cold, emotionless, and ruthless.”
Kastori Revelations (The Kastori Chronicles Book 1) Page 18
