Kastori Restorations (The Kastori Chronicles Book 4) (11 page)

She always knows. She always, always, always knows.

To his surprise, Celeste slid off him and walked on her own. She paced ahead slowly as if feeling her way through the open space, but did not wobble or stagger like she had imbibed too much wine.

When they came within a hundred yards of the building, Cyrus saw the door was shut. He didn’t find that unusual but nevertheless got a queasy feeling as he approached. Waking Novus—if he was even sleeping—might lead to some dangerous outcomes with the deranged man. Mindful of the echo unsheathing his sword created, he slowly pulled his sword out and gripped it tightly. He looked to Celeste, who didn’t withdraw her sword but did not censor Cyrus either.
She’s thinking the same thing.

He came to the door and pressed his ear to it. He could not make out any sounds from within. He knocked on the door softly but still did not hear anything. He grabbed the door and tried to pull it open, but it was locked.

“Celeste, can you sense Novus?”

She nodded and closed her eyes.

Then the sound of a rifle click to Cyrus’ left froze him.

“What in the name of Monda did you two do,” he said, his words more of an accusation than a question.

“Don’t make sudden movements. Don’t provoke him. Wait for a chance to use your magic and disarm that gun.”

Slowly, Cyrus peered to his left. Novus had a shotgun cocked at him and Celeste. He stole a glance behind him and positioned himself between the shotgun and his sister. He raised the sword to place it in the sheath.

“Drop it,” Novus commanded. “Drop it. I said drop it!”

“Do it, Cyrus.”

Cyrus listened to his sister and released the sword, allowing it to lodge in the snow beneath his feet. He bit his lip as he stared at the wandering, nervous, unpredictable eyes of Novus. Cyrus tried to get a sense for the deranged man, but trying to read the emotional state of someone who couldn’t even describe his own state proved fruitless.

“I said, what in the name of Monda. Did you two. Do.”

“What are you talking about?” Cyrus said, his voice measured.

“Don’t play dumb with me!” Novus shouted. “Do not. Do not play dumb with me. You two come here and return from the cave. The temperature rises. The winds stop. This is not the work of humans. Not humans! This is not the work of technology. It’s some… Argh! You tell me what you did! Tell me now!”

“Celeste, whatever magic you absorbed, I really hope it can heal gunshot wounds from a few feet away. He’s—”

“I absorbed the planet’s power,” Celeste said, coming to Cyrus’ left.

“Are you insane?!? He’ll kill us both!”

Novus looked at both of them, his eyes twitching out of control, and started laughing. It started as a quiet laugh, then reached normal volume, and soon turned to a hysterical cackle.

“You absorbed the planet’s power?!?!? You? You, a little girl?”

Cyrus raised his arms in anger, but Celeste’s magic prevented him from moving forward.
The one time I’d want that.

“You lie! You lie! You both lie! I should, I should kill you both! Yes, kill you both. Maybe I’ll absorb your power and go back to Monda! I can run into Raidus and ask him why he sent us here! Here! To this suicide mission!”

“Raidus is dead,” Cyrus said. “My grandfather died peacefully ten years ago. You will not run into him, Novus. Taking our power will not reward you.”

Novus seemed taken aback.

“No. No! No! You lie again! Raidus said we were going to new worlds! Look at this place! This is no world! No world! It’s a giant block of ice! Just ice! He needs to become like the others. Others.”

He did kill them. He went insane and lost his mind.

“Celeste, we need to get away from this man. Now.”

“What did you do to the rest of the crew, Novus?” Celeste asked.

“The others? The others. They’re gone. Gone away. Gone. Like Raidus. Raidus is an other.”

“Why?”

“Why? Why? Why?!?”

Novus laughed again, breaking into uncontrollable hysterics. Cyrus began to feel pity for Novus and also gratitude that he had never devolved to that level.
This is me if I never find Crystil and Celeste. Or I’m dead at the mouth of Calypsius.

“Why? What a funny question. Why does why matter? Why do we care about the why? I’ll tell you why. Because I could. I could. Like you.”

Time seemed to slow as Novus raised the gun. Cyrus quickly turned and grabbed Celeste, tackling her to the ground. He saw her close her eyes just before his shoulder collided with hers, and his eyes shut as well. The sound of the shotgun firing deafened both of them, and Cyrus and Celeste fell to the ground.

Unharmed.

Slowly, when he felt sure his mind wasn’t tricking him, Cyrus rose off of Celeste and turned back. A blue sphere encompassed both of them. On the outside of that sphere, Novus lay on the ground, a shotgun shell having exploded and sent several bullets into his chest. He did not move. His eyes remained open, looking, as they always did, at something or someone not present. Cyrus shivered at the sight, then turned his attention back to the barrier.

He could move through it with ease. But when he picked up his sword and gently touched it, it kept the sword out. He gently swung the blade against it, and the sword bounced off the barrier without any damage. Yet, when Cyrus sheathed his sword and moved back into the barrier, the sword moved through with ease.

I couldn’t have ever imagined power like this. To deflect bullets… Celeste just did it at point-blank range.

“Celeste? You OK?” Cyrus said, his voice shaky.

Celeste groaned as she sat up.

“That took a lot out of me,” she said. “If we take Tapuya, I would prefer to not have to fight someone immediately after.”

“Consider it done,” Cyrus said.

He offered Celeste his hand, but she remained on the ground, so exhausted she could not even lift herself up.

“Lazy,” Cyrus said with a chuckle.

“Wait until I recover,” Celeste said.

Cyrus turned back to the door and tried to open it, but to no avail.
Did Novus just let the door lock behind him? He’s truly crazy.
He walked around until he found a window and broke it open with his sword. He climbed in, went to the front and opened the door. He took Celeste in her arms and carried her to one of the rooms. He gently laid her on a small bed, barely large enough to support her, and grabbed blankets from several other rooms. Just to make sure, he took her pulse and breathed a sigh of relief when it beat at normal levels.

“I owe you my life after that one,” Cyrus said as he gently kissed her on the forehead. He left the room and quickly circulated through the complex, making sure no more surprises awaited he or Celeste.

Once he confirmed it was safe, he passed out in the main meeting room on a comfortable, well-worn chair within minutes of sitting down.

17

Two days had passed on Monda since Crystil’s rousing unification speech. The humans and Kastori had miraculously combined to not just finish her personal fighter,
Phoenix
, but had also pushed another ship out. As the second night drew to a close, they had begun work on the third ship, and based on production alone, Crystil believed they might get two ships out every three days.

The unbelievable uptick motivated her back, as she slept only four hours a night and ate as she worked, accepting food delivered to her by other humans. She transported materials and held things in place for the others to weld, and she pushed herself to the physical limit, beyond even her time in battle.

But Crystil had developed too much of Celeste’s intuition for reading people. She knew the warehouse did not function based solely on the production of ships, but on morale, and on that ground, she saw slippage. Many people collapsed while working, and some openly questioned whether or not Typhos would even return.

“We beat him back, he’s humiliated, he won’t return.”

“We’ve fought war long enough. One man can’t possibly be worth this entire production.”

“If we have other magicologists on our side, why do we need to prepare?”

The words infuriated Crystil, who remembered what had happened on Anatolus a mere few weeks ago when the people got lazy.
Annihilated. Only Cyrus and Celeste remain from that outpost. Only the Kastori here remain of the pure Kastori. Not including Typhos.

Whenever she heard people saying such things, she tried to encourage them, imploring them to push through one last battle. She tried to encourage those who collapsed to get some rest and come back stronger. But without meaningful motivation or sight of the target, she knew her words only supplied a short-term boost that would not work. Even she hated the uncertainty of when, exactly, they would go after Typhos, and if he would even retaliate against Monda.
He’s got to want to. Knowing him. But if we get to him first…

You have to be prepared. You know the danger of not being prepared. Better to build dozens of fighters and not ever use them than to get lazy now and executed later.

Sensing the need for a push, she summoned for Emperor Orthran to meet her in a private room. He joined her on that second night, shutting the door behind her, as the two convened near a window overlooking the entire warehouse.

“The people’s morale is fading,” she said as the Emperor shut the door. “The people need to be pushed by someone besides a soldier. They need a leader, or better yet, a savior type. You can be that figure, the person who was seen as dead and is now back from the dead to save his people. Emperor Orthran, I am not the leader that you think I am. You are the leader we know you are because you did it for so long.”

To her surprise, Caius—
still can’t wrap my head around calling him that—
seemed apprehensive about her words.

“Crystil, I appreciate that notion, but in my opinion, that is just not what the people will think,” he said, his eyes shifting toward the people and Kastori down below. “The people will see me as a failure. They will despise me for losing the war to Typhos, and for letting so many of their friends die. The Kastori have no connection to me. I would venture that some of them may have attacked me at one point. Perhaps if we were still fighting the first battle, but…”

Crystil reminded herself of where he came from and tried to strike the balance between deferring to the authority he commanded with the power he had granted her.

“I understand sir. But I went through a very similar spot barely a few weeks ago on Anatolus. The Kastori there got lazy, just before Typhos arrived while the three of us assumed we would be in their tribe for the remainder of our lives. The Kastori simply wanted to live, they didn’t want to prepare for war. They had become weary of war, and frankly, I couldn’t blame them after Calypsius. But the fact is, that ennui and refusal to fight means everyone but your children perished when Typhos destroyed everything. I couldn’t reach the Kastori because it wasn’t my place and I am not a Kastori, but these are my people, and I’m afraid I still can’t reach them. My words may goad them, but it will not instill a deep, burning desire to work. You, sir, you can. I would bet the people won’t see you as a failure. I’ll bet they’ll see you as a savior like I said earlier. They would give anything to have you leading the charge as you did for all those years.”

The emperor gave a weary smile, acknowledging her persuasive words. It was clear to Monda’s greatest soldier that the emperor didn’t entirely buy it, but he was at least more open.
We don’t have to have him tonight. We just need to have him speak before everyone completely quits.

“If the people should collapse, if they do not wish to fight, then perhaps I will consider it,” he said.
Exactly what I had hoped for.
“But I cannot face my people when I have failed them. Think of the people who died because of me. Think of the envy and jealousy I inspired by evacuating a select portion of our society. The people will not want to face me. I do not want to face them.”

Fear. That’s all this is.

“With all due respect, sir, I believe an emperor must face his people when he has failed them,” she said. “You are not a coward, and I would defend you and any decision you make publicly to the end. But between us, nothing will make the people connect to you more than admitting failure. And let’s make it clear. No one could have withstood the assault on us. Only by combining Kastori and human forces do we stand a chance. I failed to realize this until I had no other choice.”

It was an all too honest admission for Crystil, who remembered her earlier days on Anatolus when she had failed her superior’s children. She did, however, allow herself a feeling of relief. She couldn’t imagine having this conversation with the emperor if Cyrus or Celeste had perished at any point.

“You have grown, Crystil,” the Emperor said with a warm smile. “When I brought you on, you never questioned me. I loved your commitment, your skills, and your fearlessness, but I always wanted your input.”

“I know, sir,” Crystil said with a smile. He really had always asked her for her opinion, but having never had anyone ask such things before, she just went along with whatever he had said.