Kastori Restorations (The Kastori Chronicles Book 4) (18 page)

The two had gone about one mile when a massive foul stench reached their nostrils. Cyrus did not vomit but gagged, and Celeste did the same.

“I wish I were still smelling Crystil,” Cyrus said.

“Now I’m even sicker,” Celeste said.

But whatever laughs would have come vanished quickly when they saw a balicae—all eight feet of it, all several hundred pounds of the creature—pinned to a tree about five feet off the ground. On its chest, a word was cut into its flesh: “LEAVE.”

Cyrus gulped.

“I guess Typhos is trying to tell us something, huh,” he said, but the humor vanished. “Celeste.”

“He doesn’t want to fight us, or at least me,” she said. “After our conversation last night, he views me differently. He doesn’t want to fight me if he can. This is his way of trying to prevent that.”

“While allowing himself to collect the power of the planet.”

They heard the thud of someone landing from a jump, and both siblings turned in different directions. They saw no sign of Typhos, but they did hear footsteps approaching. Even as the steps sounded like they should have come from just mere feet away, they saw no one. Cyrus stole a glance at Celeste, who closed her eyes but kept her grip on the sword.

“Mind games,” she said. “He’s trying to trick us. He’s at least another mile ahead. Just keep going.”

Cyrus gulped but nodded. Along the path, many more creatures laid slain on the ground, a clear demonstration of Typhos’ strength and message. Cyrus could not ignore them, both because of the overwhelming smell and the gruesome sight. He clung close to his sister, hopeful that Typhos would somehow get off track and give them a chance to leave.

Then he saw it.

“Duck!” he yelled as he grabbed Celeste by the shoulders, dragging her to the ground as a fireball sped toward them, shooting out as Celeste had looked up. Both dodged the fireball as it collided with a tree about a hundred feet behind them, igniting it.

“And now we’re on a timer before this whole place burns down,” Cyrus said.

He rose as the fire spread up the tree at a steady rate. He turned his gaze to the source of the fireball but saw no one. He grunted and began to yell before Celeste grabbed his arm.

“Keep going, don’t encourage him,” she said.

Cyrus groaned but kept it quiet. The two Orthrans pushed ahead for about a dozen minutes, cognizant of their surroundings but without any further danger. Then they saw it—an opening to a field, one that had a pit on the far side.

“Magic is there,” Celeste said.

“Well then,” Cyrus said.

The two sprinted ahead but stopped in their tracks when Typhos dropped down from the trees, blocking their passageway to the field.

30

“You should know when someone is telling you not to advance any further,” Typhos said, his voice dark and angry.
This is not the Typhos I spoke to last night,
Celeste thought.
He’s worked himself up into a frenzy.

Yet he tried to stop us. He doesn’t necessarily want to kill us. He may not be what he was last night, but he’s not the man we saw at my father’s palace a few weeks ago.

“Celeste,” he said, treating her name with an odd mix of respect and vitriol. “You left me with a lot of thoughts after last night. Those thoughts have not made me a happy man. But on the other hand, because they did not make me a happy man, they brought me here. Here, where I will claim Tapuya for myself and all its power.”

You’ve got to try and reach him. He hasn’t attacked you yet. He warned you repeatedly. He’s not interested in killing you.

“Typhos, I know those thoughts didn’t make you happy. They weren’t designed to make you happy. They were designed to make you think. To help you.”

Typhos snorted, but his body shifting told Celeste her words had done something besides infuriate him.

“Help me,” Typhos said. “Do I look like I need help? Do I look like I want help? Especially from you, sister. After all that I did to you. All the torture I put you through. Nearly killing you with my blade, a scar you still wear.”

His voice had started angry but had become more monotone and emotionless as he spoke. It gave hope to Celeste that he was open, or at least confused enough to consider what she had to say.

“Your capacity for forgiveness… it is truly astonishing,” Typhos said.

He paused as he seemed to go deep into his thoughts. Celeste glimpsed in and saw him trying to motivate himself with hatred and angry thoughts.

“Typhos, you said it yourself last night. You wish you had found us before you became consumed with rage. But I can feel your anger subsiding when you see us. You aren’t as angry as—”

“Enough!” he shouted, brandishing his sword, putting the two Orthrans back on the defensive. “I do not need your help. I do not need anyone’s help! I waited here for you, lustful for a battle to do you both in. But I realize now that that is only delaying me from my quest to acquire Tapuya’s power.”

Despite the sword raised, Celeste took a defiant step forward.

“You do not want to fight us, Typhos. You gave us numerous warning signs along the way to turn back. Even now, you delay. You—”

Celeste knew she had gone too far, though, as her brother clad in dark robes and a mask lunged at her. She easily dodged the attack, having plenty of distance between them, but the signal was clear.

Then, to her surprise, Typhos calmly sheathed his sword back.
Too calmly.

“You are right in one regard. I, Typhos Kaos—not Typhos Orthran, not family—am not going to fight you.”

Celeste gulped as she felt an intense concentration of magic from behind Typhos. She then heard a sickening hissing sound from behind him. A serpent with the face of Calypsius and an elongated, limbless body looked at Celeste, opened its mouth, and hissed aggressively at her. Its body stretched about twenty feet and was about a foot thick. Most of it was coiled on the ground behind Typhos.

“Instead, I will leave that up to my newest creation. I took inspiration from the planet itself. You can die knowing that I did not kill you if that so comforts you.”

He looked at the serpent and snorted.

“Kill her and make it quick,” he said as he turned and walked away.

“Typhos!”

But her focus changed quickly as the monster lunged at Celeste. She simultaneously cast a physical barrier spell on herself and rolled to her left. She did not move quickly enough as the creature’s fangs opened and closed tightly around her leg.

But the barrier protected her, causing no harm to her and forcing the monster to retreat. It hissed as it pulled back, rising up into the air. It came eye level with Celeste, its eyes trying to burrow into her soul as if attempting to trigger flashbacks in her mind.

“Cyrus!” she shouted.

“Keep it at bay,
” he messaged her.
“I’m climbing to ambush it. Just stay alive a little longer.”

“You and your ideas,
” she messaged in frustration, even though with a second of stalemate she thought it was a good idea.

She held her sword out at the creature, both hands on her hilt. She endowed it with an ice spell as the creature cried out at her. It lunged, but Celeste properly anticipated it and swung her sword. It only grazed the top of the head, but it was enough to make it recoil, hissing and bleeding.

She looked behind it and saw Typhos still walking toward the pit.

“Cyrus, you’d better hurry, he’s—”

She couldn’t even finish her thought as he leaped from up above, plunging the sword through the monster’s neck. To her horror, it didn’t die, and Cyrus hung on as the creature shook in place.

“Go!” he yelled. “Follow Typhos! You can catch him!”

“You—”

“This is nothing compared to the giant aviant,” Cyrus said, still riding the monster and twisting his sword. “Go!”

She hesitated for only a second more, casting a barrier spell on her brother, before she sprinted ahead. Typhos still sauntered ahead, almost seeming to hope that one of them would catch up. But when she got within a couple dozen feet, he picked up his pace.

“Typhos!” she yelled. “You don’t have to do this! You can stop this now! We can help!”

“You can’t help me. No one can help me,”
he messaged her as he continued running, just out of reach.
“I am beyond help. At this point, our battle is inevitable. One of us must die after this planet is destroyed.”

“No!”

She saw him descend into the pit and knew that she could not catch him just by following his direct trail. But if she jumped, and landed in front of the entrance to the core…

She didn’t have time to consider the alternatives. If Typhos got the power, he would win no matter what. She could not lose the battle for planet supremacy.

She ran past the spot where Typhos had descended and to the high edge. She took a quick gulp of breath and jumped. She cast a red magic spell to slow her descent, but it only worked marginally well.

Marginally well, however, was good enough. Her legs buckled upon landing, but she was unhurt. She rose to see her brother pausing about ten feet in front of her. The compassion in her eyes had vanished. She had given her brother every chance possible to stop. Their conflict, in terms of this planet, had passed converting Typhos.

She had to stop him.

“You cannot take this planet, Typhos,” she said. “You need to stop.”

“Interesting that I would need to do such a thing,” he said, the anger returning to his voice. “And what if I don’t, Celeste?”

Without hesitation, she unsheathed her sword and held it toward her brother.

“I don’t want to kill you,” she said. “I never want to kill anyone. But what I want to do and what I need to do are two different things. My need for peace in the universe overrides my desire to keep you alive. If I have to kill you…”

Fire unlike anything she’d ever experience swarmed her. She was in control, but she remembered how he had tried to kill her and Cyrus multiple times. He would lose this battle. If that meant death, she could accept that.

“I will.”

31

Cyrus rode the monster as it tried to buckle him off repeatedly. Even as he lifted his sword and plunged it through in several spots—he could see the blade coming out on the other side of the creature—the beast still shook, trying to get rid of him.
Why won’t it stop?!? How much pain can a monster take??

Oh, right. Pain. Typhos. It doesn’t feel pain as a monster of Typhos.

Realizing he had to kill it in one blow, instead of stabbing the creature on top of his head, Cyrus brought it around the creature’s neck, attempting to decapitate it. But this time, the serpent finally succeeded in shaking him off, throwing him forward. Cyrus rolled to the ground, his hand still on his sword, as he quickly turned around at the hissing creature. He felt protected with his sister’s barrier spell and in control but also nervous—he did not like Celeste fighting Typhos alone.

He endowed his sword with ice magic and taunted the monster, encouraging it to come after him. The monster instead kept its distance, seemingly refusing to advance.

“Come on!” Cyrus yelled. “Is this what all of Typhos’ monsters are like? Afraid to attack?”

But the beast only taunted back, hissing and groaning at him.
It doesn’t care about killing me. It only cares about preventing me from helping Celeste. Typhos must’ve…

Cyrus became blind with rage.
He wanted to isolate me from her. Not going to happen. You won’t stop me, Typhos!

He lunged at the creature. The creature coiled back as if preparing to strike. With his focus and intensity at an especially high level, time seemed to slow for Cyrus. He anticipated the creature’s movement correctly and held his sword slightly to the left. The creature struck, and Cyrus perfectly positioned his blade so that it pierced the creature’s mouth.

The creature’s momentum carried it forward toward Cyrus. It spat a liquid substance at him, and acid burned his skin. He ripped the sword out as he rolled to the ground, crying out in agony.

“Die,” he said as he stared at the creature taking its last breaths.

He slowly stood, the acid’s remnants still searing away at him. He looked ahead and heard the clang of swords.
No time to wallow in your pain. Ignore it. Go. Fight. Help Celeste. Win the war right now.

He sprinted ahead with the sword held in his right hand toward the pit. The sound of steel colliding with steel echoed and became an unending grating sound to his ears. The world around him became a blur as the only clear thing he saw was the pit down below. He didn’t have a strategy other than attack Typhos and defend Celeste. However that played out—and whatever that cost him—he would accept.

About fifty feet out, the pain from the acid became nearly crippling. Realizing it was sinking into his bloodstream as a poison, he quickly ripped his shirt off and wrapped it around his shoulder, acting as a tourniquet to protect his arm.
Just keep going. You can still use it. Celeste doesn’t need long.