Kastori Restorations (The Kastori Chronicles Book 4) (8 page)

It was not a role she had willingly taken on, but left with little choice given the emperor’s desire to be one with his people—
perhaps it’s some sort of penance for losing against Typhos
—she had to assume it, or else no one would.

“For years now, many of you have done nothing but meaningless labor, either working to avoid death or fighting to avoid death—but none of you did your duty for a cause you believed in. And yet, through it all, you survived. You are here for a reason. All of you.”

She stole a glance at Hanna in her periphery. She seemed oddly emotional, but Crystil could not stop now.

“For the past two years, there has been a war. Humanity versus magicologists. Right now, amongst you all, former magicologists stand. Just to my left here, a former magicologist stands. For many of you, this is a hard fact to handle. Many of you, if not all of you, lost someone you loved in the war. I lost my husband about two years ago, and even now…”

Even with Cyrus in the picture as he is…

“… I still think about him. But understand this. The Kastori—the former magicologists—among you are not here to sabotage us. They are not here to spy on us for Typhos. They want the same thing you do. They want to eliminate Typhos so that they can live in peace. For decades now, they have lived in fear of what that man can do—and we all tragically know what he can do. I know many of you will never be able to look past what their race means to humanity. But we have a mission now, one that is standing very much in front of us and blocking our path toward any other road. All of our resources—and I mean all—are going to be dedicated to rebuilding our ships. You will work your job non-stop until you need to sleep. When you need to sleep, you will do it on-site, so that when you wake up, you can get right back to work. We will have people designated specifically to feeding you, so you do not have to worry about grabbing food. I will be down in the trenches with you guys, watching, leading, assisting where I can. Nowhere in that description of what lies ahead—nowhere—does ‘fighting former magicologists’ fit in.”

She turned to Hanna.

“I have a Kastori here who will explain their position.”

Crystil took a step back. Hanna looked nervous and took a deep breath.

“Believe it or not, once upon a time, Typhos was liked among the Kastori. As the same age as him, as a young girl, I had a crush on him. But that was then. Now, he has transformed into a horrible monstrosity. For over twenty years, I served him not because I still lusted after him, but because to rebel meant death. I saw him kill many of our Kastori for such a reason—and often times, he would kill just to relieve stress. I understand that many of you hate us. But understand that we despise Typhos just as much.”

She said nothing more and took a step back. Crystil stepped forward.

“Work with the Kastori. I don’t care if you never talk to them. I don’t care if you plan on never shaking their hand when everything is done. But I do care that if a job needs to be done, and you need to do it with a Kastori, that you do it. I do care that you do not interfere with the Kastori. And I do care that as workers here, you all treat each other with the respect I give Hanna and the others. If this is too much for anyone to take, walk away now. We will put you somewhere else. We will also put you somewhere else if we see you attacking or sabotaging the Kastori otherwise.”

Crystil paused and waited for at least a dozen men to leave. But to her pleasant surprise, no one moved. Everyone, it seemed, understood the battle ahead and the necessity of combining forces.

It encouraged and inspired her to push forward.

“I would expect nothing less from the best of Monda,” she said, and when cheers came—from both humans and Kastori—she even allowed herself to smile a little bit, a rarity for her in front of crowds. She turned to Hanna, Garrus, and the Emperor, who all applauded as well.

She waited for the crowd to hush, and she pointed behind her to the warehouse. It was old and run down, damaged by the storms that Typhos had created over the years, with holes in the roof. But already, one ship was just a day away from being able to fly with the magic of the Kastori.

“This is the building where we rebuild our empire! This is where we bring peace back to our world! This is where we defeat Typhos!”

The crowd erupted into cheers, and Crystil led the way to the warehouse. She felt a strong sense of possibility coursing through her at that moment. In truth, as much as she didn’t want to admit it, she knew the success of their battle depended largely on the two Orthran siblings who were on a planet so far away she didn’t think she could fly there in five years, let alone two. The power that they had was mystical to her, but mystical power was what was needed to defeat unstoppable power.

But if the people didn’t believe in a cause to rally around, they would give up and be annihilated before the Orthrans had a chance to defeat Typhos. If they couldn’t win the fight, they just needed to survive as long as possible.

She walked up to the lone fighter close to being complete and admired its name,
Phoenix
.

It looked like a normal fighter from the old regime, with a rounded triangular shape from above, except it had endowed in its body armor resistance to flames and sudden shocks. Though she could not see it, she knew its weapons would be enhanced with elemental powers, the better to stun the enemies. It also had stronger engines and could more easily maneuver through tight spaces, ensuring that a pilot could not break the ship with sudden turns.
Thankful for that part.

This will be the ship I fly.

She turned back to the crowd.

“
Phoenix
is just one of many ships we need to create,” she said. “We need a fleet of at least a hundred ships. We made this one in the course of three days. With your work, we can find ways to do this faster, safer and with even more powerful ships. So…”

She held her pause, looking into the eyes of individual people. They all looked determined and ready to fight, to bring glory back to the empire. Old scars and bitter feuds would be put to the side.
Now these are the kind of people I can fight with.

“Let’s get to work!”

12

When Celeste opened her eyes, she saw the most beautiful scenery she had ever come across.

Vostoka was a blank canvas. White snow on the ground and a light blue sky adorned her view. Though she shivered, she soon adjusted to the temperature.

“I really need more clothes,” Cyrus said. “I feel naked here. It’s like negative five thousand degrees.”

“Go eat an ursus and take its fur if you’re that desperate,” Celeste shot back. “Or, you know, don’t stand still and let the cold air envelop you. You could do that too.”

“I guess I could,” Cyrus said as he took a few steps forward toward a hill. “Good news is it seems like here you never quite get to your destination! You feel like you’re just walking along on the same snowy path and the… same…”

His voice trailed off at the top of the hill, and Celeste quickly trudged through the snow to meet him. At the bottom of the hill, a single building remained. It looked rusted and unused in years.

Then she saw a figure move past a window.

“Human?” Cyrus asked. “Don’t tell me it’s Typhos. It better not be.”

“No,” Celeste said, sensing. “It’s a human. But just… a human. I don’t sense anything else in the area.”

“If it’s just a human… wonder how long he’s been alone,” Cyrus said, all humor vanishing from his voice. “If I know anything about isolation, it’s that it makes you start talking to skulls. Let’s be careful, Celeste. One hand near your sword just in case.”

“It’s a human, not an ursus on two feet,” Celeste said with a smile, though it masked her concerns.

When Cyrus did not reciprocate the smile, Celeste dropped hers, and the two approached the building slowly.

As they got closer, Celeste figured it was big enough for about six rooms, or maybe a dozen people if they put two per room. Curiously, she didn’t see any tracks to or from the building. She didn’t see any indentations whatsoever in the snow except for the ones she and Cyrus created. No lights seemed to flicker from inside the building, though she sensed the human. The human seemed bored, but not in the way Cyrus would be bored. It felt like resignation as if he couldn’t do anything about his predicament.

Wonder what happened to the rest of his crew. And his ship. Was it like Omega One, essentially one way? Or was this a touch and go mission and he got left behind?

At the front of the door, Celeste wiped off snow and saw a display pad similar to the one on
Omega One.
She felt her hand on the door. Ice covered it and the crevices within.

“This door hasn’t been opened in—”

Cyrus knocked loudly.

“Really?” Celeste asked.

“I’m just doing things the old fashioned way, Celeste. Besides, I figure it would be rude to break in.”

Celeste rolled her eyes and shook her head. No answer came, though, and Celeste became curious. She sensed for the man, who seemed unmoved by Cyrus’ knock. Once again, Cyrus knocked, this time with more force, but the man still did not move.

“He doesn’t hear you or he doesn’t want to hear you,” Celeste said. “Besides, Cyrus, this isn’t where the source of power is. It’s a bit further out, and we should get going.”

“Can you sense how far?”

Celeste shook her head.

“On the off-hand chance that we can garner ourselves some supplies here, I want to try it. If not, it’s going to be a long, awful walk to that power. And I don’t even get a hot meal out of it!”

“You can always cook some—”

But she froze.

Footsteps.

Celeste had dropped her focus on the man and failed to notice him approaching. They each took a step back, Cyrus’ hand going to the hilt of his sword. Celeste did the same. The footsteps stopped at the entrance.

Silence came.

And then a loud crash came as the door swung open, ice shattered, and a man nearly stumbled out.

The man was unarmed. Cyrus and Celeste dropped their hands from the sword. The man looked up slowly. He had a thick gray beard, long gray hair, darting green eyes, and a noticeable tremble. He said nothing for several moments, and neither did Cyrus or Celeste.

“Do you think he remembers how to talk?”
Cyrus messaged Celeste.

“We can try.”

“Hello,” Celeste said.

The man seemed startled. Celeste took a step forward, closing the gap to about five feet, and smiled.

“I’m Celeste Orthran. This is Cy—”

“Orthrans,” the man said, mumbling. “Orthrans. Orthrans. You. Orthrans?”

Celeste gulped and nodded.

“You… you sent me here. You sent me here.”

“I… I did not,” Celeste said.

“Raidus Orthran.”

My grandfather.

“Raidus Orthran sent me here. You sent me here.”

“My grandfather,” Celeste said. “He sent you here?”

“He sent me here. You sent me here. You Orthrans. You sent me here.”

“Careful, Celeste. He doesn’t seem well. Could snap any second.”

Celeste gulped.

“May we come in? We want to help.”

“Come in. Orthrans. Yes, yes, of course. Come in.”

Celeste went inside the complex but made sure to maintain some distance from the man as she walked inside. Cyrus did the same while keeping his hand on the hilt of his sword. Once both were inside, the man shut the door, producing the sound of more snow and ice crashing to the ground.

“I didn’t think I would start hallucinating visitors,” he said slowly, his eyes still not locking with anyone else’s. “But on the off-hand chance that I am not, welcome. Welcome, Orthrans. Welcome.”

“Thank you. What is your name?” Celeste asked.

“My name?” the man asked. In her peripheral vision, Celeste could see Cyrus looking at her with concern. “Novus. I am Novus. Yes, my name is Novus. The last one here. Only one.”

It’s like he doesn’t believe his own voice. Sad. What Cyrus could’ve become.

“What?” Celeste asked. “The last one here? Were there others?”

“Others?”

Novus seemed to stall, so Celeste looked around. The inside didn’t look much better than the exterior. Though it was much warmer, the walls and floors had numerous cracks in them, and the entire place looked drab and weary. Celeste cast a quick sensing spell one last time and confirmed no one else lived in the area.

“Oh, yes, others. Yes, others were here. But not anymore. They are gone. They left. They’re gone.”

“Celeste, I would not sleep here if I were you. This doesn’t feel safe at all.”

“You are not gone. You are here, Orthrans. How did you get here?”

“I—”

“Do we tell him the truth, Celeste? He’s already on edge. What if he knows of magicologists too?”

Celeste sighed. The man still did not look at them in the eyes, though the way his eyes bounced, it seemed it would accidentally happen eventually.