Kastori Restorations (The Kastori Chronicles Book 4) (26 page)

“All ships, line up with me,” she said. “We move and attack as one. This monster has far more powerful fire than the other two, but it can’t destroy our ships just through thought. Understood?”

The remaining three fighters acknowledged the statement, and Crystil roared ahead, doing her best to ignore the carnage and desecration of her world beneath her fighter. The black monster, which beat its wings to remain airborne, saw the fighters coming in and bellowed a mighty roar toward it. Crystil remained undaunted, having heard that roar in real life and in flashbacks far too many times to not know what its cry sounded like. The creature turned its body to them and leaned back to breathe fire.

“Pull up!”

All four fighters did so, just dodging the flames that emerged seconds later. But to Crystil’s surprise, the monster cut off its fire-breathing short and rose to meet them. It seemed like the beast was only a dozen feet away, for its yellow eyes stared Crystil down with a fury that shuddered even the well-seasoned soldier.

“Evasive maneuvers!” she cried. “Break formation!”

Everyone flew their separate ways, with Crystil rising to the sky. She banked the ship to her right as the creature’s right arm just barely missed swiping her.

But to her chagrin, it did not miss one of the ships, piercing it with its sharp arm, stopping it in the middle of the air. The creature roared in triumph and then coldly discarded the vessel, tossing it hundreds of feet away from them.

“Who’s still here?”

“I,” Garrus said.

“Just us,” Emperor Orthran said.

The three best pilots against this. Let’s go.

“Guys, this is going to sound crazy, but we’re going to use me as bait again, but in a different fashion. I’m going to charge the beast. I need you two to flank the beast and attack it from the rear while I distract it.”

“Crystil,” Garrus began, but then simply laughed. “Only because it’s you am I not going to call it insane. And even then, I might call it a bit foolish.”

“You can call it whatever you want when it works, Garrus,” Crystil said.

Garrus and the Emperor said nothing more as their ships went behind the monster, with Crystil launching a stream of bullets at the beast, provoking it and drawing its ire. Crystil banked in fake retreat as the creature bellowed, but before it could give chase, she came back around for another swing at it. She kept her eyes locked on the target, noticing the two ships behind it banking in for the kill shots on its wings.

“Come on, you ugly—”

She unloaded a stream of bullets as the creature breathed fire. Knowing what had happened last time, Crystil waited as long as she could before diving underneath the flames. It felt like the flames were already on her when she finally did shoot underneath, but her ship did not burn to the ground.

She instead heard the massive groans of the beast and looked up. It was collapsing toward her.

She cursed loudly as she banked and dived at the same time. She came perilously close to the ground, no more than a couple dozen feet off, before her ship shot back up to the sky, safely away from the crumpled monster on the ground.

But it roared once more, and Crystil saw that though it was grounded, it was not defeated.

“OK, gentlemen, time for some sheer force,” she yelled. “Set weapons to ice and let’s give this monster a taste of our weapons.”

The three formed back up and circled the monster, coming in for the rear. The creature turned and breathed fire, but with it grounded, it did not have the ease of aim that it did before, and the three fighters easily dodged the attack. They launched their missiles, and though Calypsius managed to burn one of the missiles, the other two had the desired impact, exploding and freezing the skin of the creature. The creature growled in anger.

“Another pass, Commander?” Garrus asked, eagerness obvious in his voice.

Crystil almost instinctively responded yes before she glanced down at the battlefield. A lone figure with a sword charged the right flank of the monster.
He’s insane. But he’s my kind of insane.

“Negative, Garrus. The Emperor’s son wants all of the spoils of war.”

Garrus joked with the Emperor about how he wanted some of the spoils, and for the first time since Celeste came running to Crystil, urgently sounding the start of battle, Crystil let a smile slip. Still, it quickly vanished as she continued circling the beast, making sure it didn’t pull any surprises and hurt Cyrus. It quivered in response to Cyrus’ sword but did not shake with such force that it concerned Crystil.

Within a minute, the beast had stopped moving, its eyes stopped burning with anger, and Crystil felt safe.

“Victory!” Garrus yelled.

“Don’t get ahead of ourselves, Garrus,” Crystil said.
It’s not over until Celeste comes back or Typhos returns. Only they decide when the battle is over.

“Where are we going to put these ships down, Commander?” the Emperor asked.

It was, unfortunately, a good question. The hangar was destroyed along with the warehouse, and the ground around the area was too full of rubble and debris to land. Crystil looked out, trying to find a place to land that was flat and not filled with destruction.

“There,” she said, pointing to a spot about a mile east of the palace.
The old slave grounds of where the Emperor was held. That can’t matter right now, though.
“But not yet. There are still monsters in the area we can give air support to.”

“Acknowledged,” the Emperor said.

“Gentlemen, let’s clean up—”

But her words froze when she heard a cry she should not have heard.

Her eyes darted to the source of the noise, and to her horror, she saw the red Calypsius charging on the ground, bulldozing over trees toward the three remaining ships.

45

The cave wasted no time in dispelling the void in front of Celeste, as the blinding light came almost immediately upon her entry into the cave.

When her eyes had adjusted, she saw the front of the Imperial Palace, the garden within the walls and in front of the palace itself. The sun had just begun to set, creating a golden and red rich color across the clouds and sky. The plants bloomed as if Typhos and his crew had never stepped foot on Monda, and the palace looked impeccable as if built the day before.

From the shadows of the palace itself—which Celeste then noticed she could not see inside—Crystil and Cyrus emerged. They did not bother to hide their expressions or their identities, and both wore the clothing they normally wore. Their faces did not change, and each had a sword on their hilt.

“Sister,” Cyrus said. “Welcome home.”

Stay alert. This is a trick. You’re not really back on Monda.

“What, you’re not going to come and give your big brother a hug? Geez, I would’ve thought that after going this long without seeing me you’d at least want to say hello and give me a hug.”

But Celeste, suspecting a trap, did not move.

Still, the fact that Cyrus and Crystil—
imaginations of Cyrus and Crystil, remember
—had not yet attacked her put her off guard. She didn’t know what to think of the sight.

“Have you gone mute, Celeste? I mean, I know being around the awesome me is so overwhelming, but I promise I won’t overshadow you further. Come on.”

Then his smile faded, and his eyes lit up.

“Come on!”

Now I know it’s fake. Cyrus would never lose his temper with me. This is not Cyrus and Crystil. This is the projection of Cyrus through Typhos.

“Really, sis? You’re going to make me come to you? Or, better yet, you’re going to make me ask my lovely woman here to drag you to me?”

Celeste gulped, having not expected the cave to recognize the romantic interest between the two. Even when Celeste reminded herself that the cave could read her mind and thus see the interaction between her brother and her commander, it still unnerved her.

Her hand slowly moved to her sword, and the eyes of Cyrus followed.

“Wow, uhh, well, looks like something got into you, sis,” he said, though Celeste noticed his hand also reaching for his own blade. “I’m not sure what happened, but this is home. Me, Cyrus. Her, Crystil. You, Celeste. We’ve done so much together, and now you’re just going to draw your sword? That seems a bit aggressive, don’t you think?”

Celeste had to admit she felt a great deal of confusion, having expected the two figures to charge and attack her. It became only more confusing when Cyrus raised his sword and dropped it to the ground.

“See? I’m not going to do anything to you.”

But why would he say that if it wasn’t already on “his” mind?

Stay alert. He still has magical capabilities. You know this.

Celeste refused to budge. She could see a twitch in Cyrus, something that betrayed the fact that he was not really her brother but a clone, a projection by Typhos. More curious to her, though, was that Crystil had not yet said a word. Even though she usually remained silent, Crystil would’ve said something by now, Celeste figured.

He doesn’t know her as well. Can only make a projection of her based on the slim knowledge that he has.

Had Typhos known Crystil better, she would’ve made her more human, with eyes that locked on. Instead, when Celeste gazed at this Crystil, she saw a blank space, eyes that focused solely on her true mission at hand—to kill her. On the surface level, Typhos had it right. He could create a Crystil who had the same speech patterns, physical mannerisms, and attack patterns. But he could not create the sense of soul and emotion that Crystil often only subtly emitted, and it became obvious here.
Typhos is weak at expressing emotion. Probably been that way since Aida left and Adanus died.

“Celeste,” Cyrus said, and his voice suddenly shifted, morphing with Typhos’, eliminating all pretense of a trap. “You know you are fighting a losing battle. All of you. You’re outnumbered two to one. We are both better with the sword. Everyone on Monda is being crushed. You surrender now, be a good little girl, and we’ll make sure our Lord Typhos gives you a swift death.”

Don’t respond. Don’t respond. Don’t respond.

Cyrus growled, and Crystil unsheathed her sword without emotion.
Now I know this is fake for sure. Crystil always has some nerves before battle, even if they disappear half a second later.
The fake commander charged, and Celeste quickly grabbed her sword, preparing to do battle. Crystil’s sword swung much faster than Celeste remembered, and the young girl found herself defending herself as the commander swung from many different angles. She used her red magic to push Crystil back, but Crystil only stumbled back a few feet, not the great distance which Calypsius had gone.

“Ah ah ah, it’s not going to be so easy now,” Cyrus said, his voice again morphed with Typhos’.

Celeste focused on going on the offensive and cast an electric spell on her sword. She also concentrated all of her red magic on increasing her own speed, and she ran at the projection of Crystil. Her blade speed now reached that of Crystil, and the two came to an equal level of sparring, their swords clashing in the air, neither one gaining ground.

Until Celeste managed to reach out with her leg and kick Crystil to the ground. Before she could think twice about it, her sword went through the chest of Crystil.

But unlike the other projections, this one seeped out blood, and Crystil cried out in pain, coughing up blood and groaning. Even though Celeste knew it was fake, and that it was a trap designed by Typhos, she could not help but feel emotion toward the projection as it writhed.

“Your weakness is my opportunity,” the mixed voice said.

Celeste looked up just in time to see Cyrus lunging toward her. In one motion, she grabbed her sword from Crystil’s body and rolled to the side, narrowly dodging the projection’s slice. Seconds later, the agonized clone of Crystil vanished.

“She was merely ancillary anyways,” Cyrus sneered.

With that, the two engaged in combat, Cyrus using his size to try and overpower Celeste. Their swords clanged, sparks flew, and each endowed their weapon to try and counter the respective spells of the other. Celeste switched her sword’s property faster, allowing her to gain closer ground, but Cyrus soon used his size and had Celeste sprawled on the ground, her sword knocked away.

“I knew you were the weaker one,” Cyrus said. “You could have beaten me if you weren’t so emotional and tied up to the idea of Crystil dying. But now, your brother is going to kill you. It’s a great tragedy, isn’t it?”

Celeste looked up at her brother, his sword above him, and had a flash of recall as she remembered her brother nearly taking her magic.

“I’ve seen this play out already,” Celeste said, words which confused the Cyrus projection enough that she had the chance to reach her arm back. “You won’t stab me.”

“What a fool,” Cyrus said, his voice now almost exclusively Typhos’. “The past does not indicate the future.”

“No, but the results are the same,” Celeste said as she used magic to bring her sword back to her. It rushed to her hand, and Celeste swung at Cyrus, slicing his side and knocking his sword to the ground. “You are not Cyrus. You fool no one, Typhos. My brother would never betray me. You cannot stop me.”