Kastori Restorations (The Kastori Chronicles Book 4) (31 page)

Unlike the Caliphae, who could not wield a sword effectively, Typhos’ new form could, one sword playing off of the other. Celeste struggled to keep up as the blades seemed to come from angles she didn’t even think possible. One of the attacks sliced her shoulder, and she retreated quickly, grinding her teeth as she tried to recover while keeping her eye on the monster.

“It is useless,” Typhos said.

The beast charged, its sword having returned to a staff, and Celeste saw a chance. She struggled with fighting multiple swords at different angles, but she could handle one massively powerful sword from one angle. The beast swung, and Celeste blocked its attack, though she felt her arms vibrate and tense from the shock of the attack. Typhos brought his staff back and tried to shove it at her, but she ducked and lifted her body into the staff, knocking him backward for half a beat. Half a beat was all she needed, for she swung her sword with all of her might at its belly.

It felt like hitting the palace wall. Her sword bounced right off, and Typhos laughed.

“Did you not pay any attention to my demonstration before we began?” he snickered. “You can’t hurt me. You are only delaying your death.”

But Celeste noticed something. One drop fell from his stomach and fell to the ground.

Blood.

Maybe he doesn’t feel pain. But I am damaging him. He’ll slow down eventually. Calypsius did when we attacked it. Gonna be the same here.

Typhos took to the air again and unleashed a series of magical spells on Celeste. Her white magic again reached a stalemate with his black magic, but this time, Typhos could leave the magic as it was and charge her. She didn’t notice this until the last second as she rolled to the side, dropping her barrier and allowing the flames he had cast to swarm in, barely missing her. She wasn’t in position to bring her sword up as Typhos swooped down and reflexively threw her hand up.

The red magic did just enough to push Typhos away as she again dodged the worst of his split staff, though one sword sliced her cheek and drew blood. It stung, but it was nothing close to a debilitating injury and Celeste did her best to ignore it.

“Look at this!” Typhos roared. “You can barely hold me off. You have done nothing to me. Yet, with all of your defensive power, I have still managed to draw blood twice. It would seem that if I am patient, I will win this battle.”

Celeste refused to engage. But in her head, she reminded herself she, too, had drawn blood. She, too, could win this battle.

No. I will. I will win.

“But I am not a patient person. Your life ends with a power that cannot be deflected, not in this form.”

Typhos went to the edge of the fire, which Celeste perceived as the edge of the platform, on the opposite side of Celeste. He closed his eyes, his wings folded in. Celeste saw a green orb of energy forming in the middle. She sensed that this was a much more powerful form of Ultimus than the one that Typhos had cast in his Kastori form—so much more powerful, in fact, that she would not survive this blast, no matter how many barriers she threw up.

How. How. How.

Her mind raced through the question as the orb continued to gather energy and crackle, becoming more unstable by the second. She could not deflect the attack—that was a nonstarter even with Typhos in his human form. She could not survive the attack with her defense mechanisms.

A crazy thought came to mind.

Erda had sacrificed herself and absorbed the mortal blow from Celeste, allowing the young girl to live. She glanced down at her sword, embedded with a red gem, and wondered.

Does it have similar powers? Could it do the same thing?

Time was running out. The orb became more unstable and threatened to explode at any moment. Celeste didn’t have time to run and plunge the sword into the orb. She would get one shot to throw it from where she stood, and if she missed, it was her life that she would lose.

The world seemed to move in slow motion. She thought of her mother, sacrificing her life for her, a woman who had suffered terribly—some of her own doing, some not—but who had redeemed herself in the end. She thought of her brother, who had nearly crippled the mission before saving both her and Crystil, and now played an integral part in the defense of Monda. She thought of Crystil, the cold, icy warrior who had become one of them. She thought of her father and the terrible tragedies and tribulations he went through, waiting for the day, foolishly hoping that Celeste and Cyrus would return.

And, even at the moment, with her arm coiling back, ready for possibly the last throw of her life, she thought of Typhos and the boy he once was and could have been. She knew that even as recently as on Tapuya, he could have given up the fight, and she felt a tinge of sadness he would never reach that. It would cost him either his life or her life.

But if he lays dying… he can still…

Her arm shot forward, and the blade flew through the air, time seeming to return to normal. She couldn’t see if her sword had struck the orb, because just a half-second before it would’ve, a blinding green light filled the air, and Celeste prepared to die.

But she still felt whole.

Slowly, she opened her eyes. The arena and barrier around her glowed a light green, and Typhos on the far end struggled to rise. The illusion of Anatolus had faded, and they were back in space. In the middle, her sword lay, coursing with green energy. She used her red magic to call the blade back to her. The hilt remained the same, but the blade glowed green, pulsing with the greatest black magic power in the universe. Celeste stared in awe at the weapon, amazed at what she had done, and looked to Typhos, who suddenly had fear in his eyes.

“How…”

Celeste couldn’t answer that. She went silent not to avoid engaging the enemy, but because she hadn’t expected the move to work. It was a move that signaled she had no better idea, and yet it had proved to be the move that would turn the tide.

“You… you… that was my power!” Typhos roared as he charged.

But Celeste felt strikingly calm as Typhos charged from the air, even with his two swords still intact. The beast swooped down and time seemed to slow. Celeste swung her blade at the sword in Typhos’ right hand, breaking it in half and rendering it useless. She quickly spun and swung at one of his wings, tearing it from his body. Typhos crumpled to the ground and quickly whirled around. Celeste swung her blade down, and Typhos deflected it. Though this blade did not break—
it’s the true black sword—
Celeste knew she had the overwhelming advantage now. She swung down again, and again Typhos parried, but this time, Celeste knocked the sword out of his hand. She ignored the hand rising in defense and plunged her blade through the center of Typhos’ chest.

Typhos screamed, belying his claim and Celeste’s suspicions about his lack of pain, as he writhed on the ground, the sword remaining embedded in his chest. He howled and arched his back, the cries disturbing and one of a dying man. Typhos lost control of his magic as spells shot off into several directions, forcing Celeste to take several steps back, her sword remaining where it had pierced him. A massive light appeared from Typhos as all of the energy surged from him.

Slowly, the light disappeared, and Celeste could see once more. Typhos’ monster form had vanished. He lay there in the clothing that he had when he met her at the peak of Mount Ardor. Her sword had shattered, its pieces scattered across the ground.

She rushed to him and gasped. His mask was gone. She could finally see his face.

It was scarred, burned, and only had one eye.

But what parts she could see made Typhos look exactly like Cyrus, fifteen years older.

53

As Crystil launched into the mouth of the creature, she still couldn’t believe just how large the thing was. Its teeth alone were the size of the largest building in Capitol City—or the Capitol City she had grown up in—and the forked section of its tongue could easily destroy all three of their ships at once. The drops of saliva that formed inside the mouth looked like entire waterfalls, and Crystil silently thanked the creators of the ship that they had the size and agility that they did—she doubted the old ships would have the maneuverability to survive a mission like this.

“OK guys, remember what we said. Go slowly, don’t fire anything, and on my cue, we attack the throat.”

The jaws closed behind them, and Crystil looked up. It was like looking at the sky on Monda at night—she could not make out the roof of its mouth.

“Lights on,” she said, and beams emitted from the fighters in all directions, lighting the way. But even then, she would only see the drops of saliva forming. The side and bottom of the mouth were too far away to be shined upon.
If this weren’t about to kill Monda, it would be amazing. Incredible. That Typhos could create something like this…

A drop of saliva formed in front of her and she swooped the ship to the side, narrowly dodging the substance. She began to wonder if that would actually cause any damage to her, but she didn’t see a reason to risk it.

After flying for what felt like two minutes, she saw the back of the mouth—an opening that still seemed to defy expectations. She gulped, imagining viruses and bacteria doing the same in her throat, and felt an odd sense of understanding.
That’s how it works. Go inside where it’s weaker.

The beast opened its mouth once more, and a whoosh of wind pushed them forward dangerously quickly, forcing Crystil to maneuver acrobatically past debris. A bit of saliva caught one of her wings, tilting the ship, but she shook it off shortly after and entered the throat of the beast.

“Got a smell worthy of an overcooked breakfast, huh?” Cyrus said, but Crystil could no longer engage in banter. The mission had become too real and her reflexes needed to be perfectly sharp.

They flew in peace for a couple of minutes, though Crystil made sure to fly close to the center as the throat constricted and in case a rush of something came that she had to fly to the side to dodge.

“Think it’s time to blow a hole, Commander?” Garrus asked.

We’re far enough in. But things are about to get rocky.

“Use your bullets with a fire endowment to open a hole. But be ready. You’d be choking and hacking pretty hard if something tried to tear you apart from the inside. I’m going to swoop ahead and come back. Be ready for a gush of wind and dodge accordingly.”

Cyrus and Garrus slowed down as Crystil went at her normal speed, then banked sharply. Despite the creature’s massive size, its throat proportionally meant Crystil didn’t have nearly as much room to work with as before.
Now really thankful for these new ships.

She shined a light on the spot she wanted the three of them to fire.

“On three. One…”

She gulped and tightened her grip on the controls.

“Two…”

This really better work.

“Three!”

The three ships unloaded their bullets as the throat began to tear. The walls shook violently, and Crystil felt air currents battering the ship, trying to break the vessels.

“Stay there and keep firing!” she yelled.

Seconds later, a small opening formed. Crystil fired her jets forward and made it inside the chest cavity, where things still shook, but the worst of the airwaves had ended.

“Gentlemen?” she asked.

“Never doubt us, Crystil,” Garrus said with a laugh as the two emerged seconds later. Garrus’ ship had some debris on its wing, but nothing which slowed it down. Crystil wouldn’t smile in pride yet, but she felt good about their progress.

Crystil looked down at her radar and saw something trembling rhythmically. She listened closely and could hear the pounding of the heart, off in the distance.

“Follow me, guys,” she said.

The two flew through the cavity, mindful of the various bones and other unknown substances, toward the massive heart. It didn’t take long for Crystil to see it, and it made her gasp. It was so massive, she wasn’t sure that six missiles could do the trick.
But we got nothing else. Bullets, maybe they’ll help.

“Fire, Crystil?” Cyrus asked.

“On my count,” she said. “Equip your missiles with the ice endowment, fire away, and then equip your bullets with an electric endowment. Use up all your ammo, and get out of there. Don’t wait for either of us. Same for you, Garrus.”

“Understood, Commander.”

“You don’t get to be a hero escorting the last person out. If you don’t leave as soon as you can, you die, and there’s no honor in dying unnecessarily.”

The heart seemed to beat faster as if knowing of the humans’ presence inside.

“On my count.”

Her hand went to her missile trigger, and she smiled.
We always find a way.

“Three… two… one…”

Looks like we’re going to Narshia, Cyrus.

“FIRE!”

Six missiles flew through the air and collided with the heart, which beat faster as blood gushed out. Crystil switched over to her electric endowment and sprayed her bullets across the body of the heart as best as she could. She swung back as she finished a pass, leaving her with about four hundred bullets.