Kastori Tribulations (The Kastori Chronicles Book 3) (6 page)

Typhos remembered Tara specifically calling him out for trying to become chief and shuddered at the thought that she would talk to councilors to keep him out. He didn’t see how anyone could favor her over him, but the dirty word kept springing to mind:
politics.

It was a word which he feared would haunt and shackle him in a way nothing else ever would.

In what world should a bitter old lady ever keep someone like me from their goals?

“Tell me what you plan to do tomorrow for your birthday.”

The new topic shifted Typhos into high gear, who not only lost track of time, but also the surroundings. He talked about his plans for magic shows, competitions, and hunting expeditions. He became grossly enamored in discussing what he and Pagus would plan—even dropping the bet with asking out Hanna. His father laughed and, much to the pleasant surprise of Typhos, followed it up with normal breathing and not the hacking of the dying.

“Remember, she may say no, but better to have no girl than no legs,” Adanus said with a warm smile. “I wouldn’t make our fittest Kastori climb half of Mount Ardor.”

“Is it possible to scale the whole thing?”

Adanus smirked.

“You’ll die before you even get halfway up. So it’s as possible as surviving a fall from the peak.”

Typhos laughed and turned at the sound of footsteps. Figuring Pagus wanted to tell him something, he turned over his right shoulder first but saw nothing. He turned back the other way and saw his mother coming. She walked wearily and with a slow, deliberate pace. His father stood and gingerly walked over, just out of earshot of the boy. The two exchanged a soft, tender hug as Adanus kissed Aida. The two turned back to their only son, holding hands.

“Adanus is looking good, isn’t he?” his mother said, with something of desperation in her voice.

Not really. Worse, probably.

Typhos opened his mouth and hesitated for just a second when he saw his father wink.

“Yeah, much better,” Typhos said, trying to sound uplifting but the effort too apparent.

“Our son has done much today, Aida, and has an even bigger day tomorrow. We’ll need to officiate some magic competition and help set up some other things. Think you can do that?”

His mother smiled.

“Not only do I think I can do that, I know I can do that all day!”

Typhos rushed over and embraced both his parents tightly in a group hug, so overwhelmed he nearly cried. He still couldn’t remember the last time he had both parents together for the entire day.

“Thanks, Mom,” he said, his voice quivering.

“Anything for my little boy,” she said, causing a rolling of Typhos’ eyes and laughter from his father.

“I’m fifteen, not five. I won’t be so little anymore.”

“As long as you’re my son, you’ll always be my little boy.”

Typhos groaned jokingly as he squeezed his parents tighter.

Finally.

Nothing could possibly bring down tomorrow.

7

Typhos’ eyes opened from the few hours of sleep he had mustered as an uncontrolled, wide grin formed on his lips.

The perfect day.

Outside, the sounds of aviants cawing and flying filled his ears. A gentle breeze whooshed outside, loud enough to be heard but not disruptive enough to have woken anyone else in his tent. He glanced over and saw his parents still asleep, cuddling each other. His mother’s right arm lay over his father, who lay on his right side, facing away from Typhos.
Wake up! Wake up!

Remember. Entitlement. Don’t have it. Let them rest. The sun hasn’t even risen yet. When it’s time, they’ll be there. They promised.

Typhos quietly removed the blankets from his body and rose. He glanced once more at his parents, who both slept like an ursus during winter. He decided if they had not woken by the time Pagus came out, he would gently shake them awake. That gave them at least a couple more hours.

Typhos walked gently toward the flap of his tent, making sure each step landed softly, and emerged outside to see a brightening sky, but one without the sun this early. He looked at the woods, and his stomach growled once.
My day. My style. Ursus time.

And Pagus doesn’t get any unless he likes my cooking.

Which he doesn’t. So ursus for breakfast it is.

He chuckled quietly, wanting to maintain the peaceful silence the early morning brought Anatolus.

Typhos wished he could teleport to the woods and save time—and, while he thought about it, have stronger red magic—but such a dream, he knew, required him to actually take his next class seriously.
Guess I have to have a weakness. Make me easier to relate to.

He instead walked down at an accelerating rate as he left the Kastori outpost and could afford to make more noise. He walked about a hundred feet into the forest and climbed one of the trees he had used for pranks in the past. He ascended about fifty feet and closed his eyes, trying to sense for an ursus in the area.

But Typhos struggled. Every time he tried to clear his mind to sense for his breakfast in the area, he thought about the day ahead. Hanna or, more unfortunately, his father’s illness kept crashing his mind.
Wish I could just instantly create the spell instead of having to sit here and think about it.

Finally, after about a dozen minutes of struggling, with his last thought consisting of how he and Hanna would take the council by storm after their silly politics kept him out, he gave up trying to stay single-minded on his task. Typhos let his mind wander, thinking about everything he could, hoping it would eventually wipe itself out and allow him to cast his spell.

After a couple of minutes, it became apparent he would need to let his mind wander for quite some time. He thought about traveling to new worlds and spreading the reign of the Kastori to as many places as possible. He thought about learning powers that no Kastori knew just through sheer studying and the power he had.
Why not? New power leads to new magic.
For just a flash, he saw images of three planets in his mind—one brown, one white, and one green.
I’ve never seen those before. Weird.

Typhos didn’t think much of it, though, as he imagined taking over the council. He thought first of doing it the correct way and celebrating the moment when the other six council members would appoint him chief. Maybe his mother could even resign and let him take over, continuing the unusual method that his father had used.

He shifted to a more gruesome scene, wherein he took the council by force. He had flashes of two images—one consisted of him holding a man upside down, flames all over him, and a bony hand before his eyes on the man’s head.
My own?
A second image appeared where he held out a sword, and saw a woman that looked like… like his mother, but aged decades, on the ground before him. He wore a mask but had such power that he could see through it as if in the real world.

The images only flickered in his mind, not long enough to be certain of anything but present enough to narrow the possibilities down.

“Come on man, now you gotta focus,” he said out loud, realizing letting his mind race had only enabled it to run a marathon of thoughts.

He closed his eyes and told himself to focus for five seconds. It worked—he could sense dozens of aviants in the trees, a couple of arachnias scurrying about, and about five precora grazing a hundred yards away. He did not see any ursus.

He turned and looked up at the one other place he knew ursus resided—Mount Ardor.
Plus they’re stronger there. Which may not be the safest thing for me, but screw it, it’s my birthday. And I’m Typhos, not some average Kastori. Danger doesn’t really apply to me.

Slowly, he descended the branches, taking his time as he pleased. He jumped from the final step, holding his hands out as if accepting raucous applause from his friends.

He reached the mountainous range without much trouble, though he always kept his head on a swivel. He came to the first path and closed his eyes for sensing purposes. A couple of miles away, he picked up the weak presence of an ursus.
Is my magic bad or… Nah. Let’s go find out. Your magic can’t be that bad. Your weakness is still a strength compared to most.

After a mile, Typhos was out of breath, his hands on his hips and his breathing more like gasping. He saw the mountain would only get worse and that by the time he reached the ursus, he would not even have the physical stamina to cast a fire spell to defeat the beast.

Maybe I should just turn around. There’s more—

No. No. No! Get your food, Typhos. Your day. Your feeding time.

The boy smiled eagerly when he heard a growl. He quickly looked left and saw a small ursus—too small to be an adult. It approached him curiously. Typhos froze. He didn’t know how he had missed this ursus, but it seemed like a gift from the planet on this special day.

And yet… the ursus didn’t look more than just a couple of months old. Typhos knew, selfishly speaking, he wouldn’t get as much meat out of this creature as he would an adult ursus—and there was no guarantee whatever meat he did get would be as good.

But a strong impulse overwhelmed him even further—he felt that he could not kill something that could not defend itself.
Is this the right thing? Is this a sign of weakness? What would the council see it as? That I showed compassion for something weaker than me? Or that I was a coward when I needed something?

I don’t really need food at the moment. And let’s be real, I could crush it if need be. But…

He heard a louder growl as an adult ursus trotted from behind its offspring. Typhos froze, knowing running would only attract the attention of the adult. The baby ursus leaned against its mother, and the elder ursus and Typhos glared at each other.

I can’t kill either of you. I won’t hurt a defenseless creature, and I would never want anyone—Kastori, ursus, avaint—to lose a parent. I saw what happened with Pagus. I know.

The ursus kept its eyes locked on Typhos, who slowly backed away, making sure not to make his movements sudden. The ursus snorted loudly and nudged its child in the opposite direction. Typhos turned back down the mountain, though he often looked back just in case.

He almost gave up on having ursus for his birthday when he decided to give himself one last shot at the edge of the forest. The sun had not yet broached the horizon, though Typhos figured by the time he finished his last search it would become visible. He crouched down at the first tree and cast a more focused spell. Sure enough, about four hundred feet northeast, an adult ursus grazed alone. No longer willing to engage in a true hunt, Typhos walked over, cast the most powerful fire spell he knew, and killed and cooked the ursus within minutes. The sudden kill had charred the creature a bit more than the boy wanted, but the meat brought ecstatic feelings all the same.
Worth it. Worth the wait. Always.

Best start to my birthday ever. Just how the day ought to go.

After he had eaten until his stomach felt painfully full, Typhos lifted the ursus up with his red magic and brought it back to his outpost. He struggled with the spell, needing to stop more than once—both to recast the spell and because the pain in his stomach required him sitting—but reached home just as the entirety of the sun appeared. He placed the ursus in the middle of the outpost so that everyone could come celebrate with him. He had centered the ursus and crossed his arms, pleased with himself, when Pagus’ tent flapped open.

“I guess you’re the delivery boy on your birthday, huh?”

Typhos snorted with a short laugh.

“You wish,” he said smiling.

“I’m just messin’ with ya, man.”

Pagus gave a genuine, full hug to his best friend. Typhos, feeling on top of the world, accepted the hug and patted Pagus on the back several times.

“I already had first cut, but would you like the honors of having the second cut?”

“Man, gotta have it all, huh?”

“Duh.”

“All right. I would think you would save some for Hanna.”

“Oh,” Typhos said, momentarily upset but then laughing. “She won’t be here for another few hours. There’s no point in giving lukewarm meat to her.”

Pagus shrugged in agreement as he took a large chunk of ursus and devoured it.

“Charred?” he asked in between bites.

Typhos nodded begrudgingly.

“Like it, really,” Pagus said, surprising his best friend.
Looks like I’m on to something.
Pagus swallowed a larger piece than he intended to. “You are asking her out, right?”

“Duh,” Typhos said laughing. “It’ll be the perfect day. Perfect food, perfect everyone, perfect girl, and when she comes, I’ll—”

A loud, piercing, tragic wail from his tent shocked Typhos and Pagus, who both turned and sprinted for the golden tent.

8

Typhos opened his tent with his shoulder as he barreled in. His mother was on her knees at the side of her bed, gushing out tears, her voice a high-pitched, devastatingly painful wail, and her body trembling. To her left, his father laid on the bed, in the same position as when Typhos had left the tent.