Kastori Tribulations (The Kastori Chronicles Book 3) (10 page)

“Dear, I’m sorry, you know I can’t do that,” she said, her eyes truly sorrowful. “We’ve never—”

“But Mom, please!” Typhos said, his hands on her arms tightly. “We need this! We need each other!”

She nodded with an exhausted grimace.

“We do, but the time to be around each other is not when I am working, Typhos. I—”

“Can we bring it up to the council? They understand, they will. We as a family need each other.”

Aida sighed and kept looking over her shoulder as if expecting someone to berate her for being late.

“Typhos, no. We have never had—”

“Mom! Please!”

“Typhos!” she snapped.

Typhos recoiled, but dark feelings seeped into his mind.
She’s not even considering it. It’s like she doesn’t really want me around. Do I have two parents lying to me now?
His mother breathed slowly while Typhos did his best to prevent the ugly thoughts from turning into a believable truth.

“I have made my decision, and you need to respect that. I am not Tara or one of your classmates. I am your mother.”

The tone of her voice sounded like one he had heard far too much in years past when he frequently got in trouble.

“Only because of the circumstance, and only because you are so insistent, I will ask the council what they think. But I am not going to do so in a formal setting and mock what the council and chief are about. I will only speak to others outside of our official meetings, and I will probably not speak to everyone, because once I get a sense from a couple of people, I will not need to confirm it with everyone. Do not get your hopes up.”

Typhos bit his lip to avoid replying, “Why should I ever with you and Dad?”
I have an opening. Now I just need to hope Mom cares enough.

“Thanks,” he said, the fire in his mind not yet put out.

“You are welcome, Typhos,” she said

She leaned up and kissed him on the cheek, though it felt more like a formality than an actual display of love.

“I will be home for dinner. I will informally mention everything to the council. And I will see you tonight. Love you.”

She quickly turned around like a child late for class, and Typhos disgustedly shook his head as she departed.
So much for us leaning on each other. So much for me having a chance for the council.

But at least both are still possible.

13

Typhos had no mother for the rest of the day. He had no father anymore. He didn’t want to see Pagus while angry.

He had no one around him. Only his angry state and his dark mind occupied him.

He sat on the edge of his mother’s bed as the disturbed thoughts gripped his mind.
You don’t need her permission. Just go. Scale the mountain and crash the council. They won’t stop you. And if they do—you got the power.

Are you going because you want to help her? Do you really want to help your mother? Or is she just a means?

I love you, Mom. So why don’t you feel the same way? Why can’t you let me be with you?

Get rid of the council. Make it useless. Force your mother to spend time with you. Rule by your right!

“Stop!” he cried out.

In a rush, he stood up and stomped out of the tent, walking past his outpost and going toward the forest. He bumped into no one at first.

He got to the edge of the forest and heard two distinct laughs. One came from a young girl, probably no older than eight or nine. The other came from an older man…
old enough to be a father. I’m glad someone is happy. Glad someone has what I never did.

He tightened his hands and marched straight into the woods, feeling sick, jealous, and moody. He didn’t care if an ursus surprised him or an arachnia tried to capture him. He’d just burn it to the ground with all of the fire spells he could muster.
Burn down the whole forest as a way of getting my mother back down here. Not like the council could hold me down.

About five hundred feet into the forest, Typhos heard the deep, warning growl of an ursus and froze. He kept his strong posture as an above-average-sized ursus emerged from behind a few trees. Fear began to sink into the boy, who quickly realized he had let his anger get the best of him. He slowly backed away as the ursus stood its ground, growling at Typhos but not advancing. He refused to apologize, in his mind or out loud, and once he’d gotten a safe distance, he ran back to the base of the mountain.

What is wrong with you?!? You call yourself the savior? You think you’re going to be chief someday? You retreat from a simple ursus. You can’t even keep your mother around for longer than a week.

Nor your father. Savior, huh? Savior of what? Savior of nothing. Your dad’s dead, and if you were the savior, he wouldn’t be. He wouldn’t be ashes spread out across the plains.

I’m young, give me time!

You’re fifteen, not five. You know your skills. And you weren’t good enough. Failure. Failure. Failure…

“Stop!” he cried once more as he put his fists on his forehead. He turned to the highest mountain on all of Anatolus, so high no one on the ground could see the peak. Mount Ardor rose like a monument to the council and chief, the only people who had the power to convene at the top. Typhos knew he, too, had the power to reach the top, but as long as the council worked there, no one else had the skills to teleport.

So just walk it. I’m not going to stop until I get to the top. Going to force my way in.

He put his right foot forward and froze. Logic smacked his mind, reminding him that scaling a hundred thousand feet didn’t just happen in the course of a day, or even a week. He had no supplies, no food, no water, and no plan for climbing.

Not like I got anything else to do. And if things go bad… I’ll just teleport down. Easier to go down than up.

Won’t happen. I will reach Mom and the council.

A sense of desperation and insanity took over as Typhos began the extremely gradual ascent up the mountain. He crawled on his knees multiple times as he scaled the great mountain. The sun above him went past its zenith and continued down, marking the hours as Typhos ignored the pain in his stomach and the blurry spots that kept appearing in his vision.

Typhos scaled for hours, losing his footing twice but never facing danger greater than a scratched knee. He became dangerously single-minded, believing he would find his mother and the council, and they would have no choice but to give him a spot on the council for the work he did.
No one’s scaled this. They would have to reward me.

Only the sun setting made Typhos realize how foolish he had acted. He could still see the ground below and guessed he had scaled no more than a couple of thousand feet—if that.
Mom’s probably already home, or will be by the time I get there. Stupid! This would easily take weeks!
He stood up and felt incredibly lightheaded, collapsing to the ground. He kept consciousness but needed to breathe slowly to stay conscious.

“OK, go home,” he muttered to himself, disappointed.

He slowly rose off his back, remaining on the ground, and cast a series of teleportation spells. The magic only moved him back about five minutes worth of hiking but eventually placed him at the base, just as the sun had nearly disappeared entirely. He dusted himself off and began the slow trek home, embarrassed and ashamed at how he had lost his mind so easily with his mother gone.

He reached his outpost and saw Pagus, who waved. Typhos returned the favor but kept walking, not even saying hello to his best friend. Typhos came to his tent and stepped inside, not bothering to open the flap before brushing it aside.

She’s not here. I should’ve just stayed—

“Typhos!”

He quickly looked to his right, the one area he hadn’t examined, and saw Aida sipping on soup, motherly concern all over her face.

“Are you OK? You look—”

She cut herself off, putting the bowl on the ground and rushing to him. She placed her hands on a few of the cuts, healing him quickly.

“What happened? Did you get in a fight?”

“What? No, don’t be crazy,” he said. “I was just… getting some rigorous exercise in and I fell a couple of times. No big deal.”

Now you’re the lying one.

Hardly comparable to lying about imminent death.

“Oh,” she said.

“Oh?” That’s it?

She seemed exhausted from the day, her wrinkles more pronounced and her voice carrying less strength than in the morning.

Silence came between the two tense Kastori as Aida finished healing Typhos’ wounds. Typhos went to his bed and collapsed. He barely had the strength to take the bowl that his mother placed by his bed, but it did have the effect of giving him the energy to speak.

“Good day with the council?” he asked.

“Typical of any day,” she said wearily. “In some ways, I suppose that’s a good thing. I need the distraction and routine.”

“Did you ask?”

“Ask… Oh.”

She probably didn’t. Of course not. Why would she? Go against the great and mighty tradition of the council. No room for exceptions there! Not even for your only son!

She slowly took a seat on the side of his bed, her face taut and tired. Typhos sat up, resting on his hands, and faced her with an intense gaze.

“I did, believe it or not,” she said. “It went as I expected, Typhos. People are uneasy about it.”

Hmm…

“Uneasy, or blatantly against it?”

Now his mother took the time to consider it, and a nervous smile followed.

“Uneasy. Do I want to ask why?”

For the first time all day, Typhos felt good interacting with his mother. It felt to him like playful banter and that they’d finally gotten on the same page.

“If they are uneasy, it means they are leaning toward a certain way, but they are not committed to that way. They could be persuaded. Some might understand where we are coming from—”

“Where you are coming from.”

Typhos didn’t want to hear her interjection and continued as if he hadn’t at all.

“—and could see what we want and change their minds. So, let me ask this. Can I talk to the individual council members and make my appeal to them?”

His mother emitted a hearty laugh, one of the first such laughs that Typhos had heard from his mother since his father had died. It felt like a laugh unburdened by stress, and that alone made the question worth asking.

“I have to say, son, I love your ambition and how you just don’t take no for an answer. You’re going to do amazing things someday—let’s just hope they are beneficial things for the Kastori and not selfish,” she said. “There’s no rule that says you can’t talk to the individual council members. So I suppose I can’t really say no. I will warn you, though, not everyone will be receptive. If you are going to make this work…”

She hesitated for several seconds, ambivalent about whether or not to help Typhos. She eventually shrugged and proceeded.

“Make sure you talk to people in the right order. This is the political side of the job, Typhos. Who knows? It might be good practice for you someday.”

Someday, we won’t need politics. It’ll just be the strongest.
Despite the disagreeable thought in his head, the boy jubilantly reached over and hugged his mother for giving him the sliver of possibility that he had so craved.
Finally, I’ll get to see the council up close and personal.

“One last thing,” she said as he pulled back. “No matter what you agree upon with councilors, the only way you get to shadow me is through an official vote. So even if four councilors agree to support you during private talks, if they change their mind and decide not to let you in… you have to accept that.”

“I will,” Typhos said.

But it’s not going to happen. They’re good people—they will live by their word.
“Will you be one of the voters?”

“If it is split, then technically, yes, I would.”

She got up as Typhos asked his next question.

“Which way would you vote?”

At first, Aida didn’t answer, choosing to crouch by the soup. She grabbed an empty bowl and carried it outside. Typhos thought of chasing her down and asking her but held off against creating a scene. He waited with arms folded.
Can’t hide from the question forever.

“Well?” he asked the second her foot struck the ground inside the tent.

“Well, what?”

“In that spot, who would you vote for?”

She wouldn’t possibly say no to me.

“I don’t know,” Aida said, which felt like a cop-out lie of an answer. “I really don’t know. I would like you there, yes, but the council is serious business, Typhos. We can’t just ignore the traditions of it.”

“Says who?”

His mother looked at him with unexpected anger.

“You will understand as you get older,” she said as she grabbed a roll of paper and began reading, walking toward her bed. Typhos knew better than to speak back at that point but swore that the only thing he would “understand as he got older” was that the most powerful and most influential would rise to the top.