Kastori Tribulations (The Kastori Chronicles Book 3) (2 page)

At the top of the hill, the two boys exchanged a quick departing hug in front of Pagus’ tent.

“Hope you’re as ready for our magic test in two days as you are your pranks.”

“Please,” Typhos said with a snort. “I was born ready. And I don’t even mean that arrogantly! I’ve never failed a test. Besides, that’s not the real question.”

Probably does sound arrogant. Oh well.

“Oh?”

“The real question is, what are we going to do the day after the test to celebrate?”

“Well, I… Oh!”

Typhos smiled knowingly as Pagus snapped his fingers.

“Yes. Your fifteenth birthday. We have to go crazy, man. Celebrating school, and the most popular kid’s birthday? We can put on a show with the black magic that we showed we know! We gotta invite everyone. Well, OK, we don’t have to do everyone. Scalius is kind of—”

“No, everyone,” Typhos said, putting his hand up to stop Pagus.
I know how these things pay off down the line.
“The worst thing we can do is invite everyone but a couple of people. Those people get upset, and then the more empathic people at the party will wonder why you didn’t invite everyone.”

And by empathic, I just mean the girls.

Pagus crossed his arms, laughed, and shook his head.

“Spoken like a true future chief,” he said. “All right, here’s the deal, though, in return for making me deal with some of the nonsense there. You have to finally ask out Hanna.”

Oh boy. Been putting that one off. Is a party really the right time, though? In front of everyone? There’s no way. There’s gotta be a better time.

“And don’t give me any nonsense reason why you won’t, buddy. You’ve been talking about her for months now, and I might just ask her myself so you can hurry up and get her before I do.”

“You wouldn’t,” Typhos said, his voice only half-joking.

Pagus gave an equally serious expression back, then dropped it in laughter. Typhos, however, could only partially drop his.

“I wouldn’t. But I do think we have to put some pressure on you to make this happen. Some sort of punishment, let’s say.”

He turned around, looking at the great Mount Ardor. Typhos followed his gaze and got a queasy feeling.

“You have to scale Mount Ardor by foot. No teleporting.”

“What?! Is that even possible?!?”

“I guess we’ll find out,” Pagus said to uproarious laughter.

“Hey, you set a high bar. No, you set the highest bar possible! All for just one challenge? You gotta incrementally set the bar higher and higher.”

It is motivating me, though. No way I’m climbing that mountain. I’d rather have Hanna slap me upon asking her out.

“OK, I’ll do it, but you gotta do something in return if I do ask her out!”

Pagus scrunched his eyes in confusion.

“I’m sorry, does getting the most popular and most attractive girl our age not motivate you enough? You need more motivation to ask her out? Uh uh. Sorry bud, but for a girl that pretty, that’s good enough.”

Hate to admit it, but so true. Her long black hair, perfectly straight and smooth… her fierce green eyes, the ones that could tell a story themselves… her confident demeanor. Her body. Can’t top that.

“Fair enough. I’ll let you go, get some practice in. I can’t show you up too badly tomorrow.”

“Do you even know who my father is,” Pagus said with a laugh. “Acquaint yourself. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Pagus ducked inside his tent after a broad smile and a nod, leaving Typhos by himself. He sheepishly smiled and turned back to his tent. The smile remained, but it had gone from an organic, natural grin to a forced, hopeful, probably fruitless grin for what awaited—or did not—inside.

3

Typhos trudged to his family’s golden tent, the largest on Anatolus. A headache formed in his head. His steps slowed down as he tried listening for any sign that tonight would differ from the rest of the nights. He eavesdropped for conversation between his parents, the sound of his father or mother walking around, the clang of his mother cooking something near the entrance—anything besides what he heard now, the sound of silence.

Just be home for once when I get home. Do you need to work with the council for that long? How can there possibly be that much work? What’s more important to you anyways?

Typhos reached the entrance and pressed his ear against the flap. He heard nothing. His sighed and slowly moved his hand to open the tent.

Then he heard a fire starting inside his tent, a sign someone was cooking. He quickly threw open the flap to the entrance and saw his father, Adanus, on one knee, preparing dinner in the pot over the fire.

“Dad!” Typhos said with great surprise. “You’re actually here!”

Typhos went over and hugged his father tightly, choosing to ignore how frail and brittle his body had become. His father let out a pleasant, warm sound from his throat, belying his age. Typhos stepped back, sitting with his legs folded in front of his father, whom he wanted to talk to more than he got the chance to.

“Typhos, how are you, son?” he said, his voice a bit scratchier than usual.

“I’m great! Glad to see you here.”

Love it. Why is he here early, though? Sun hasn’t even set.

Don’t ask why. Just take it and enjoy.

“And you? Did Mom let you go home early?”

“Hah,” Adanus said, a mix of a cough and a laugh. “I’m a little bit under the weather. It’s just some silly virus, but it’s getting worse, so I came home to avoid getting the others sick.”

“How much worse?”

“I can’t imagine anything that would keep me away from work after today,” he said, leaving Typhos disappointed.
What about in two days? Does that matter as much as work?

“So you are going to go back to work soon?”

“When I get better, yeah.”

“Well…”
Just say it.
“What about my birthday celebration in a few days? We’re going to go big, you know. And I’d love to have you and mom there.”

His father barely nodded, going into thought, much to the sadness of Typhos.
Come on, Dad. Just because it’s not work… I’m your only son. Your only child. Promise you’ll come. Just once. For once in your life promise you’ll come for the whole thing.

“I will make every effort to be there, Typhos,” he said as he reached over, grabbed a bowl, and poured some soup into it. He retreated past the bed of Typhos, past the table where everyone normally ate, past the bookshelf of Kastori history and laws, and rested on his bed. He let out a loud, violent hack, one that reinforced just how sick he was. “It will depend on how I feel. Truth be told, if you were doing this tonight, I could only make a quick appearance before retreating for rest.”

That’s what you said for the last four birthdays. I only saw you at one of them.

“I get that, and I wouldn’t want you to in your current state. I’m just saying if you get better—”

As if on cue, Adanus coughed and spit up blood.

How sick are you, Dad? You’re not that old. You’re supposed to be around when I make it to the council. Are you…

“Are you dying?”

His father gave a short laugh and shook his head.

“Don’t be so pessimistic and dramatic. No, I don’t believe so. This illness has quite the punch. But it looks worse than it really is”

A gnawing doubt remained in Typhos’ head, one that wouldn’t let him smile and feel at peace—it told him his father had not told him everything.
When has he ever? His answers are always curt and deflective.

“Just know I love you, and I will make every effort to at least appear at your party.”

That’s sadly the best we’re going to do.

“OK, thanks, Dad, I appreciate it,” Typhos said with no force behind the words.

He rose to his feet and made himself a bowl of soup. He carried it to the table, hoping his actions might persuade his father to sit with him. He quietly sipped on the hot soup, which had a strong aviant taste. The soup did not have anywhere near the deliciousness of an ursus or even a precora, but it was one of the easiest thing to make and could fight illnesses in a way meat could not.

Silently, for several seconds, Typhos sat at the table, focusing on the soup in front of him. When he glanced up, he would see his father sipping on his soup or writing something. Typhos could not see what was being written without overtly standing up, but it didn’t matter.
Whatever he’s working on has nothing to do with me being here. Probably meaningless work stuff.

Typhos neared the end of his soup, down to slurping the remains, when his father shocked him.

“How is school going?”

Typhos stopped mid-slurp, taken aback by the unexpected question from his father.

“It’s going really, really, really well,” Typhos said, repeating “well” to catch himself. “I’m taking a black magic test in a couple of days and I feel super prepared. It helps to have you and mom as parents.”

A tiny smile and a gentle snort came from his father, giving Typhos the push to keep going.

“I think we just have to show our ability to bring about four basic elements in a rapid span, like within twenty seconds, and if we do that, we’re good to go.”

“And can you?”

“I’m pretty sure I could do it in two seconds.”

His father laughed but followed it with some heavy hacking and wheezing.

“Just be humble,” he said, his voice weak from the coughing.

“Yeah, I know, I know. Oh, that reminds me. You should have seen Pagus this afternoon. I got him good with an ursus prank. I controlled it, bared its teeth, and had it rush up on Pagus, who freaked out. I thought I might have to resuscitate him! Then—”

Typhos paused as he realized he was rambling. Adanus chuckled once and smiled.

“Good times,” his father said. “I used to pull stunts like that.”

“Like?” Typhos asked, curious for more ideas and words from his father.

“I changed the weather over a single person’s head. I froze someone’s food on the inside. I somehow made your mother fall in love with me.”

“But—”

You got her because you promised her she’d become chief. That’s what the rumors say. That’s what the other kids tell me. Is that what happened? Or did you two fall in love? Tell me you fell in love. That the rumors are only true in that she became chief. Not that she married you and had me in return for her ascension. You’re just joking.

Right?

“But it actually worked,” his father continued quickly, stamping out any objections from Typhos. “Just remember that, son. You can use your magic for good. Pranks are humorous but taken too far—like the time I lit someone’s hair on fire, requiring attention from white magic Kastori—they can put you in a lot of trouble. Especially with your black magic, how much you have, you can cause a lot of trouble. A lot. Attract, don’t repel. Unless it’s war, and that hasn’t happened in… wow, several centuries maybe?”

“Well, I’m not bringing about any war, and I’ll be careful. I’m going to make sure when I’m chief—”

“If,” his father said, too gently to rebuke.

“—that I’m going to bring the Kastori to new heights and salvation from death.”

His father smiled, and more coughing came.
He’s really sick. You should talk to him about something lighter. Something not related to death.

Hanna?

Nah.

Well…

Tell him. Maybe he can give good advice.

“Actually, while we’re talking, I, uh, wanted your help with a girl,” Typhos said rapidly, blushing.

“Oh?” his father said, a warm smile on his face as he turned to Typhos.

“This girl in my class, Hanna. She’s… sweet. Beautiful. Amazing. I just, I need advice—”

The flap opened behind him, and Typhos paused his speech as both he and his father turned around. His mother, with her youthful looks, deep blue eyes, and flowing dark red hair, smiled at her son as she opened her arms, inviting Typhos for a hug.

“You’re home early!” Typhos said joyfully as he squeezed her tight. “Super early!”

“I know,” his mother said, regret in her voice. “I’ll try and make this more frequent. How are you, son?”

“Great! I was just telling Dad about school and stuff,” he said, too uncomfortable to talk to his mother about Hanna. “It’s going well.”

“Let me check in on him, OK?” she said. “We sent him home early because he was so sick. I need to see how he’s doing.”

Typhos nodded as he understood the cue. He filled up his bowl with more soup and carefully opened the flap. He prepared to walk to his favorite spot, an edge on the hill diagonal from Pagus’ tent which overlooked the forest and gave a great view of the nighttime sky. Just as the flap closed behind him, though, he heard his father hacking somehow even harder than before—to the point it sounded like he vomited.
It’s worse than he’s letting on
, Typhos thought, and he cast a quick spell that made him invisible to most sense spells.
Won’t work if mom wants to sense me. But that’s not her focus.