“Leave that to me,” the woman in the red robes said, a voice they immediately recognized as Amira. “Focus on Calypsius.”
“Amira, tha—”
“Go,” the girl said, running toward more Kastori.
Cyrus bit his lip to avoid saying anything to Amira.
“What good is shooting this monster without Pagus?” Cyrus asked Celeste, exasperated.
“And what good is magic without your awesome gun!” Pagus shouted, the most recently risen Kastori. “You really think I would die without getting to taste Calypsius? Come on now, I know you’ve been listening. Or do I need to get that cute girl next to you instead so she’ll listen to what I have to say?”
“Hi, Pagus, this is my sister,” he said, with emphasis on the last word. “Celeste. And no, I would expect nothing less.”
“Pagus,” Celeste said, without any dismissal, much to Cyrus’ concern. “We need your help. Reya didn’t make it. Can you give both our Nakar 17s magic?”
“Whew, it’ll be tough, but for a pretty lady and a chance to win this, why not?”
Cyrus rolled his eyes and quickly put his gun on his shoulder. But the cascade of bullets and missiles stopped him. Omega One was in free fall and with no engines firing.
“Is she insane?!” Cyrus asked. “She’ll die!”
“I don’t think that’s the plan,” Celeste said, but she didn’t sound sure.
Cyrus retreated, afraid of the ensuing shrapnel of an explosion. Omega One rapidly descended, continuing to rain destruction on the gasping Calypsius. Cyrus began to believe Crystil had chosen to sacrifice herself.
But at what felt like beyond the last possible moment, the engines roared, and the ship pulled up. It skipped on the ground, creating a loud crunch that left Cyrus hard of hearing for a few seconds, but the ship settled in ahead of them, still in one piece. Cyrus laughed at his stupidity for believing that Crystil would ever choose to sacrifice herself, even if to take down a monster of that size.
“Yeah, I don’t think that was the plan,” Cyrus said, still laughing with relief.
He waved to the ship and turned to the monster and taunted it. A firm hand on his shoulder stopped him.
“It’s not dead yet,” Celeste said, urgency in her voice. “Let’s finish the job.”
The three survivors only took one step, though, before the beast unleashed a terrifying cry unlike anything it had produced before.
It was not the cry of a prideful predator or a celebratory beast. It was the cry of an angry monster, furious that it had nearly died. It turned and stared right past the Orthrans and remaining Kastori, eying Omega One with such a rage that Cyrus felt the ship had no chance.
The creature quickly stood on its six limbs like an arachnia and broke off in a sprint, producing such quakes it knocked everyone off their feet. Cyrus cocked his gun and fired it at the back of the creature, but it did no discernible damage.
If they had not won the battle on Crystil’s near-kamikaze maneuver, it was not a battle they could win.
60
The roar sent Crystil back into her horrible flashbacks, but with concentration, she regained her composure as Calypsius finished its cry. She quickly yanked the ship in the opposite direction and jammed the accelerator, still fighting panic even as she had managed to quash the traumatic flashbacks.
Her body slammed against the back of the seat, unbuckled. She knew she could not afford to make any sharp turns, or she’d be thrown out of her chair to her death. But she climbed, pushing her body down and into the seat. It felt like she might actually escape. If the creature could not fly, they could get just high enough to avoid its physical attacks, and—
A loud crunch filled their ears, and much to Crystil’s horror, they weren’t moving at all. The engines still roared, but they were stuck, on a metaphorical treadmill.
“What’s happening?!?” Crystil said.
She checked her visual display and saw the creature frozen in place, its barbaric and sharp tail pointed toward the ship like a spear. Crystil knew immediately was happening.
“It’s using its magic to bring the ship back to it,” Erda said, a strain in her voice as if she could barely talk and use magic at the same time. “I’m counteracting it.”
But Erda only delayed the inevitable impaling. The ship began to move backward at a slowly accelerating rate as Calypsius’ powers grew with every second. Crystil looked at the time—they had about two minutes before the beast recovered from its initial wounds. They had to do something fast.
She grabbed the targeting modules and pointed the missile launchers at Calypsius. When she hit fire, nothing happened. The weapons were jammed, and Crystil felt hopeless. They had to depend on the Kastori below, and Omega One probably didn’t have the time to allow the Kastori to cast their most powerful spells.
There was nothing they could do.
A strange calm came over Crystil as time seemed to slow. With an acceptance of death, she turned off the radar—she would not need it anymore. She flipped to her favorite photo of her and Dyson. It was taken just after their wedding, the two still in their outfits, embracing each other with the kind of joyful faces that only the other could bring. Crystil sadly smiled as tears fell, knowing this was the last time she’d get to see that photo.
Gave it a good run. Got us all alive to Anatolus, accomplished two of our three main mission goals, and almost beat this monster. Cyrus. Celeste. Don’t ever give up hope. Live to the end.
“Erda,” Crystil said, her voice shaky from tears but with confidence. “When I say go, I want you to shift your focus from the engines to the weapons.”
Erda turned to her, and Crystil no longer feared the mask that looked back at her. That mask had not killed her and would not kill her.
Erda gave a slow nod. As she did, Crystil’s mind flashed to Celeste and Cyrus on the battlefield below. With this last burst of missiles, bullets and the inevitable explosion that would come from Omega One’s destruction, the monster would, at least, be knocked out for a period. Crystil could only hope Celeste and Cyrus used that time to get to safety. They knew what they needed to know and, more importantly, had developed the will and grit to survive anything Anatolus threw at them.
“It’s been an honor working with you, Crystil. Thank you for trusting me and fighting with me.”
Crystil gulped.
“Thank you, Erda. You showed me your race is a good race. One man and his people do not define what a race is about. I know Cyrus and Celeste will be in good hands.”
Erda nodded and turned her head downward in concentration. Crystil buckled herself up, thinking it didn’t matter, but she had to go down as prepared as possible.
“On three. One…”
She looked up at the stars, the last time she would get to do so. Anatolus did produce some beautiful night skies, even if it included her soon-to-be killer.
“Two…”
She looked back at the photo of her and Dyson. I’ll see you soon, Dyson. I’m coming for you. I love you.
“THREE!”
Crystil slammed the missile launcher and pulled the trigger on the bullets as she felt a sharp pull backward. The awful sound of the ship being split in half, combined with the explosions, filled Crystil’s ears before she lost consciousness.
61
Celeste had fired her weapon from afar, but with just twenty bullets left and having not damaged the monster, she walked closer, drawn in by its power. It’s hopeless. If it has magic, we can’t win. We have to give the surface to it and accept living underground.
She could only hope that Crystil would get one last hit on the monster.
Then it happened so fast. The ship rushed toward Calypsius, as if launched by a spring, and the monster’s tail began impaling the vessel. But Omega One had also fired every remaining missile and bullet at the creature, and a massive explosion lit up the sky and blinded Celeste.
“CRYSTIL!” she cried out, her eyes watering.
Celeste felt
the heat of the explosion from where she stood, a couple of hundred feet back, so hot she could feel her skin burning. She heard a loud thud of metal falling to the planet and saw what remained of Omega One had crashed down. The cockpit was still in one piece, but the rest had dissolved into either nothingness or shards of metal. Crystil or Erda could not have survived such devastation, even if the cockpit was not hit by Calypsius’ tail. Celeste cried at the loss of her close friend.
Celeste got her wish, though, as the ship’s remaining payload had knocked the beast down. The mourning girl suddenly felt the spirit of her commander in her, a reminder that a soldier’s mission isn’t done until the enemy surrenders or is defeated. The monster would never surrender, and so Celeste wiped away the tears and ran up to Calypsius.
The beast bled all over. Celeste walked in front of the monster’s face, passing by its hideous, evil eyes. The monster looked at Celeste with contempt and tried to roar, but instead only produced a painfully meek growl, so weak that Celeste almost figured the creature would die anyways. No. No, you have to finish it off. It will recover if you don’t kill it.
She went in front of the creature’s chest and saw a gaping hole that bypassed broken ribs and led straight to the creature’s heart. The heart beat quickly, and Celeste slowly hoisted her rifle up. Twenty rounds, she thought. Twenty rounds to avenge my father, my home, and now my commander.
Right before she pulled the trigger, she felt a momentary pause. She’d never killed anything before. Until about twenty minutes ago, she’d never even fired at anything before. For her to come this far…
Her thoughts did not demonstrate fear or nerves, or a sense of compassion for the enemy. Instead, they reflected on the path she’d taken, from panicking in virtual reality to now winning the war for Anatolus. It wasn’t just a war won for Cyrus and Crystil, though—it was a war won for the Kastori and all living things whose lives Calypsius had upended. Celeste finally had a chance to bring balance and fairness back.
“For my father,” she said. And for the people of Monda, the people of Anatolus, Erda, Cyrus, and most especially Crystil.
She squeezed the trigger as a cascade of bullets fired into the creature’s heart, exploding upon impact. Celeste became oblivious to the Kastori rushing in and to Cyrus’ cries of her name, as all of her senses focused on the bullets piercing Calypsius’ heart. Blood splattered on Celeste, and the creature squirmed. Celeste was not moved by the creature’s twitches, nor did she care about the thick blood on her body.
She fired her last round, and with it, the beating stopped. Calypsius exhaled one last time. Its eyes stared fiercely at Celeste and then shut. Celeste wondered why it had done such a thing if it did not feel pain and, presumably, fear death, but it mattered little, for she had slaughtered the beast. They had defeated Calypsius and reclaimed the planet as their own.
“Ahh!”
She cried out as a sudden rush of enormous energy coursed through her, bringing her to her knees. The sensation overpowered her, and she could not even rise back to her feet. The pulse of power went from her feet to her head, and she cried out once more.
And then it stopped. She stood up and looked at the Kastori surrounding her. She knew immediately what had happened.
I absorbed his power. I had to have power to begin with to do that. The communication… the sensing… yes.
I am a Kastori.
Celeste closed her eyes, not casting any spells—she didn’t even know how to—but taking in the new part of her identity. These were not just the Kastori—these were now her people. They had always been her people. She had as much a duty to her people as she did to Cyrus and Crystil.
Cyrus… he, too, must be Kastori.
Celeste opened her eyes, and when she looked at her new brethren, she sensed much curiosity. Some felt nervous, some felt fear, others expressed interest. Celeste knew with the power she had absorbed that she had a great responsibility to wield it justly. She had just become the most powerful being on the planet by default and became determined not to abuse that power. If knowledge served as the basis of authority in the Kastori society, she would become chief. She had the power of fire, the power of control—not to mention the power of sense she already possessed—and the power of healing. She could feel all three magical forces in her.
“Celeste,” Cyrus said as he pushed his way through the crowd, stopping just in front of his sister. “Are we… we’re Kastori?”
Celeste nodded.
“Yes. We are Kastori. These are our people,” she said, gesturing toward the crowd. “And now we can live with them, in peace, on this planet.”
Cyrus turned, looked at the crowd, and quickly looked back at Celeste, dropping his voice.
“But how? Dad isn’t Kastori. He never said anything about Mom, and wouldn’t someone have said something by now, or—”
“Cyrus,” Celeste said. “We’ll figure it out later.”
She felt a sudden power, emanating from the cockpit of the ship. She focused on the two bodies inside the vessel, and after closing her eyes for a moment, looked at Cyrus.
“Crystil and Erda. They’re still alive.”
62
The moment that Celeste said that Crystil was alive, all of the questions which had collected in Cyrus’ mind—had she sent the “wings” call? How long has she known we’re Kastori? Which of our ancestors had magic?—vanished in favor of rescuing his commander and leader.
He ran to the ship, jumping over the wreckage and through the opening created by Calypsius’ tail. The hallway was thrashed and useless, but it led to Crystil’s still usable private quarters and the cockpit. He tried tugging on the door but had no success. Fortunately, the Kastori behind him used their magic to pry open the door. Cyrus bolted inside and saw Crystil’s body slumped in the commander’s chair.
Really hope you’re right, Celeste.
He ran over to her and crouched down. Blood covered her body, and her arms dangled limply. He tried unbuckling her, but with no luck. He rummaged around until he found something sharp—a piece of debris which had blown into the cockpit—and cut the buckles, allowing him to grab her body. He held his ear up to her nose, and yes, she still breathed, but as softly as any human ever had. A few feet away, the Kastori lifted Erda up cautiously, using magic to carry her.
Cyrus paused and looked down at his commander and had to give a slight laugh, even as a tear formed in his eye.
“You crazy fool,” Cyrus said between sniffles. “Only you would know you could survive a maneuver like that. I’m going to have to give you the cold shoulder for a week when you wake up.”
He laughed once more in an attempt to fight back tears. He lifted her and carried her to Celeste. Behind the three of them, Amira began working her magic on Erda.
“How is Erda?” Cyrus said.
“She’ll be fine,” Celeste said. “Knocked unconscious, but none of the Kastori are panicking.”
Cyrus nodded in relief and gently placed their commander on the ground. Celeste looked down at Crystil and put her hands on her. Cyrus watched silently, hoping that the news for Crystil would be similar. He wished he knew how to use whatever magic powers he had to help his commander. Anything—even just sensing an unnoticed injury—could help, but right now, the only support he could offer was moral.
“She got hurt pretty badly,” Celeste said. “She has a punctured lung, multiple broken ribs, strained neck muscles and an injured spine. But I don’t sense anything life threatening.”
“Good,” Cyrus said, his voice cracking and genuine. “Only problem is I don’t think a medical pod is going to cure her now.”
“Silly, we’ll take her to the Kastori camp. She can heal there—all of our powers will help.”
Cyrus believed her. He turned his attention to Amira, who was walking toward them, and his attitude became serious. Amira had removed her mask and looked at each of them… not quite with gratitude, but at least not distrust, contempt, and hatred anymore.
“Hi,” she said, followed by a pause where no one said anything. “I’m bringing the Kastori back to our base with a teleportation spell. If you want to help Crystil, you should bring her.”
“We will go,” Celeste said.
Cyrus picked Crystil up, and they followed Amira to the remaining Kastori. Cyrus did a quick count and felt sorrow. Thirty-one Kastori had left the camp to come and fight Calypsius. Including Pagus, Amira, and Erda, only seven remained.
Cyrus closed his eyes as the spell began at his feet. Celeste hugged him tight, and Cyrus let out a grateful sigh to have his sister still around. The sensation reached his neck and head, and after a couple more seconds, the misty, dewy smell of the cavern hit his nostrils. Still holding Crystil, he opened his eyes and saw a massive white tent. He walked inside and saw Erda already on one of the beds. A Kastori in white robes showed Cyrus where to place Crystil, and he did so gingerly.
“You’ll be fine,” Cyrus said to the unconscious commander. “I need someone to punch me when I act out of place.”
He and Celeste walked out and shared a long embrace. They could finally live in peace on their new home. For the first time in years, stretching back to before the great war on Monda had broken out, they could live without fear of death.
Celeste gave a couple of sobs of relief, and Cyrus comforted her, squeezing her tight. No one said anything, and neither had to. They hugged with joy, sadness, and relief.
Finally, his sister pulled back with a gentle groan as she wiped away tears.
“I don’t think I want to go through seeing Crystil do that again,” she said with a laugh.
“Yeah, but good news is you won’t have to,” Cyrus said. “Not for a while, and hopefully not ever.”
“We’ll see,” Celeste said as she stole a glance back at the tent. Cyrus looked too but saw nothing. Perhaps Celeste sensed something from inside. “I don’t know that Crystil will be open to our new identities quite yet. She’s only known of the Kastori for a little over a day now.”
Kastori Revelations (The Kastori Chronicles Book 1) Page 24
