Kastori Restorations (The Kastori Chronicles Book 4) (28 page)

“Affirmative,” Garrus said, and the three fighters broke out in their own patterns.

Garrus seemed intent on the most dangerous route, attacking the beast repeatedly, hitting it like an annoying bug flying in a human’s face. The Emperor took the subtle route, coming from the back and launching missiles at it. Crystil, on the other hand, waited for the right opportunity.

She saw it after Garrus’ third pass.

It had locked all of its attention on Garrus and ignored the humans and the other two ships. Crystil noticed that when the beast went to cast magic, it closed its eyes for about two seconds before launching a spell. She hovered a few hundred feet away, waiting for that chance.

It closed its eyes.

Crystil lurched the ship toward its head and fired the missiles, hoping that the endowment already chosen—ice—could damage the creature significantly.

The beast opened its eyes at the same time the missiles collided with its head. It collapsed to the ground, woozy, one eye missing, and a massive chunk of its body destroyed.

“All right, gentlemen, give our ground clean up crew a clear target in the chest,” she said.

Seconds later, Garrus and the Emperor both launched missiles at the creature’s chest, creating a massive hole. Even from here, Crystil could see the beating heart of the monster. She also saw Cyrus running in with his sword and smiled.

“OK guys, let’s clean up the rest of Typhos’ ground forces and come in for a landing.”

The three made short work of the enemies with nothing left to distract or hunt them, and within five minutes, the battle had become a total victory for the humans and the Kastori.

Most of the survivors roared in triumph, some holding the heads of their enemies in barbaric displays of victory. Though Crystil would never do such a thing herself—not even with the Kastori when they were magicologists to her—she couldn’t fault the humans for acting this way, not after all that war had done to them.

But a few, including Cyrus, seemed transfixed on the sky. Crystil looked up but didn’t see anything unusual at first glance. She, Garrus, and the Emperor landed by Cyrus. Crystil got out and squeezed Cyrus and kissed him.

“Thanks for saving my life,” Crystil said. “Again.”

“Don’t talk too soon,” Cyrus said, concern palpable.

He nodded to the sky, and Crystil then saw a small figure, much like a snake, slithering through the sky and space toward Monda.

“What… what is that?” Crystil said, a nervous knot in her stomach.

Cyrus gulped.

“That is the end of us.”

47

We can’t defeat something like that. A creature a tenth of that size wiped out half our fighters. We have no shot against that.

From their vantage point on Monda, Cyrus and the rest of humanity could only see the smallest of features on the monster in space—its slick, elongated shape, its ugly face, and its jaws. But with his sensing powers, Cyrus could see the beast in all of its ugliness. Its sheer size. Its movement through space. The power of its jaws. It wasn’t just the kind of beast that could destroy Capitol City. Capitol City wouldn’t even survive one tooth.

It was designed to destroy Monda. And while humanity had rallied in tremendous fashion to defeat monsters it had already encountered, it had not prepared for a monster many times more dangerous than Calypsius. Calypsius looked like a harmless aviant compared to this monstrosity.

He held Crystil tight, convinced that nothing more could be done. He held her lovingly, knowing she was the last person he would ever hold. His father could join, but the three of them were all they had. Celeste could not get back in time.

Celeste…

“I have to go to Anatolus,” he said, his mind racing as everything in his head pointed to the logical conclusion. “I have to help Celeste. We have to kill Typhos.”

“Cyrus, no!” Crystil said with surprising emotion. “You know you can’t do anything there. You know you’ll die.”

“And what in the name of Monda do you think is going to happen here?!?” he said, pointing to the sky. “One will kill me in, I’d guess based on my sensing, about forty minutes. The other might kill me quicker, but at least I’ll go down with a fight. I’m not dying without fighting, Crystil.”

“I don’t expect you to,” she said with surprising calmness in her voice.

Cyrus looked at the normally intense commander, who seemed unusually relaxed.
Maybe it’s because she’s so close to death that she can be this way.

“You’ve never given up fighting. It’s why I like you. Do you really think we’re going to quit here?”

Cyrus shook his head.

“I want you to take over one of the ships and fly up with us. You can use your magic to augment the powers of the ship. I don’t know how much good it’ll do, but—”

“Those ships can fly to space?”

Crystil nodded.

“I don’t know what the fuel situation will be. Honestly, we may run out on the way back and have to drift back to Monda. But we don’t have a lot of options anymore.”

Cyrus bit his lip. He had a sense of finality creeping in him no matter which we way he looked. He looked at the eyes of Crystil, which watered. His did too, and the two embraced and let the tears fall.

“Make it quick, OK?” Crystil said through a sniffle. “Humanity is counting on us.”

“No,” Cyrus said. “Humanity and Kastori are counting on us.”

He pulled back and, not caring who saw, gave her a loving kiss, knowing it might be the last one. He held her lips to his for as long as he could, praying that such a moment would slow time and allow him to be with her forever.

But it ended far too fast with Crystil gently pushing back.

“We’ll do this again, I promise you,” she said.

Liar
, Cyrus thought with a smile. But he didn’t press back, deciding to live in the lie for the sake of the moment.

“Crystil,” he said, not sure if he should say the words that he was thinking about saying. But he knew if something happened up there, he did not want her to die with the words coming from speakers in the jet. He wanted her to hear them while she looked into his eyes. “I love you.”

Crystil gave a pleasant exhale as she squeezed him tightly. She didn’t say anything for several seconds, leading Cyrus to conclude that he had said the words too quickly.
But it’s true. Not like we found each other yesterday. Been friendly now for months and just—

“Love you too,” she said. “We’ll make sure we have more time to do this right later, OK?”

Cyrus gave the OK, wiped away his tears, and pulled back as Crystil assumed an authoritative stance.

“OK guys, one of you has to give up your spot.”

“Pops,” Cyrus said. “Pops stays. With all respect, Garrus—”

“I would have been offended if you had made me stay behind,” Garrus said with a chuckle that lacked the usual force but still provided a needed moment of levity. Cyrus dabbed away a tear, and he went to his father.

“Second time I’m leaving the planet with you behind,” he said. “We’ll do what we can.”

“I know you will, son,” the Emperor said.

The two embraced tightly, Cyrus sniffling and doing his best to push back the tears.
There’s no time for crying when you get up into space. Get it out now.

“I love you, Cyrus,” his father said.

Cyrus struggled to respond, but when he finally did, his words were muddled but the intent clear.

“Love you too, Pops,” he said, burying his head in his father’s shoulder.

The Emperor patted his son tightly, and this time, it was Cyrus who ended the embrace. He gazed at his father’s eyes and felt profound gratitude that he’d gotten to see him once more after leaving Monda the first time. The past couple of weeks had seen depressing and tearful lows and some short-lived highs, but the fact that they were spent with him made it worthwhile.

“OK, Crystil,” he said, turning back. “You lead the way. The three of us—it’s up to us to find a way.”

“Can you tell how long we’ve got?” she asked.

Cyrus closed his eyes, sensed the creature’s speed, and calculated the distance.

“Thirty-nine minutes,” he said.

“Then we’ve got to fight with everything we have and use all of the brainpower we got for the next thirty-nine minutes.”

And you’ve got thirty-nine minutes, Celeste.

48

The aura of magic surrounding Typhos slowly faded to reveal his completely healed body standing before Celeste. Physically, he looked the same as before—he had the same intimidating height, broad shoulders, and dominating stance that crushed opponents before his magic or sword ever did.

But Celeste could sense all of the magic had begun to warp his mind. For worse, his mind could not handle all of the power he had absorbed, and Celeste feared he was beyond the point of help.

“Welcome to the peak of Mount Ardor and your grave,” he said, his voice slightly distorted from all of the magic. “This place was once home to the most powerful magic in the universe. It still is, considering the power that the two of us share between us—three planet’s worth. But I have also added the power of this planet, and with it, any advantage you have is rendered useless.”

He slowly unsheathed his sword for dramatic effect. Celeste held her sword at the ready but did not anticipate an impending attack. She also sensed that the power Typhos had absorbed from Anatolus wasn’t as strong as she had suspected. The power of Mount Ardor had worked wonders at preventing people from sensing what was inside, but it hadn’t done much else.

“Your power is supplementary to mine. Vritrus heads for the planet. Your fight is over.”

“No,” Celeste said, walking forward, unafraid. “The fight is over when one of us is dead. You believe that you have accumulated indestructible and invincible power, but such arrogance blinds you to a few simple facts. One, we almost already killed you on Monda. Two, I am your equal, at worst. And three, the fact that you say the fight is over should prove something to you.”

Typhos murmured something incomprehensible. Celeste ignored it and pushed ahead.

“You’re still angry at me. At Cyrus. At your parents. If you truly believe that your victory is inevitable, then all of the suffering you feel should vanish. You should feel satisfied and rewarded for reaching a point where you know our deaths are imminent. But you aren’t.”

Celeste knew she couldn’t say for sure. The power Typhos had absorbed from Anatolus made it impossible for her to read his mind, so if he had, in fact, reached a place of peace, then he really was beyond saving. She could not persuade him with a hope if he had already fulfilled that hope.

But when Typhos hesitated and groaned, she knew her instincts were correct.

“You are right,” Typhos said, a surprising admission. “But still, it matters not. I have come to terms with the suffering that I experience because of my parents. I acknowledge it as a part of my life, now and forever. I recognize that I will feel emotional pain until the end of days. But do you know what else I have learned, Celeste? I have learned that all living things suffer. I have come to understand that suffering is not just something people feel from time to time, but it is the most fundamental aspect of living. If living things are not nourished, they suffer. When they do not have the company of loved ones, they suffer. When a loved one dies, they suffer. And when they die, they often face heavy suffering during the dying process. I have seen this throughout my life. Humans and Kastori live their lives trying to push away the moments of suffering, yet fail to do so in the end.”

He gave a laugh that sounded like it was supposed to be menacing but instead turned out tragic.

“So when you offer me a chance at ending the suffering, I know at best, you offer a temporary solution, and at worst, you offer a lie.”

“Why kill me, then?” Celeste said. “Why kill me if the whole point of killing me and Cyrus was to alleviate the pain, but now you acknowledge that the pain will always be there?”

Typhos snickered. His other hand went to his sword slowly, and Celeste went on guard.

“The easiest answer would be that by now, it has become so ingrained in my mind to kill you both that it is too late for me to consider otherwise. But that is only part of it. Suffering may be a fundamental part of life, but so too is vengeance. Even now, you and your brother seek vengeance. You come after me for what I did to your planet. You went after Calypsius because of what he did to Anatolus.”

“That was—”

“Defending yourself? Don’t be so pedantic, Celeste.”

No, he’s wrong. He would always hunt for us. Maybe suffering is a fundamental part of life. But he will never convince me vengeance is. Forgiveness can work wonders and eliminate the need for revenge, if not the suffering that came with the act that required forgiveness.

“Typhos, I won’t change your mind, I recognize that now,” she said as something inside of her changed. Her feet dug into the ground a bit further. Her hands tightened their grip on her sword. Her eyes focused more closely on Typhos. Her mind operated at a higher level. “All I can say is that in the end, yes, we all suffer, but I choose to focus on the joy of life. The joy of being with my father and my brother. The joy of falling in love, a joy my brother now experiences. The joy of liberating a people, as we did on Monda. Much of life is about which perspective you take, and your perspective has placed you where you are. That is a choice. Not a denial of reality.”