Kastori Tribulations (The Kastori Chronicles Book 3) (20 page)

Hanna smiled back genuinely with a short nod, and Typhos turned back and warped. He estimated that he had warped about five miles south. He looked to his left and saw an elder gentleman practicing black magic, and he equipped his mask. He looked again at the man, who looked at him with a disturbed look. The man said nothing, but Typhos knew what effect the featureless mask had on the man.

Let them fear it.

He ignored the man as he practiced teleporting down the arc of the continent, soon reaching the point where he could teleport from the bottom tip to halfway back home. He laughed when he did so.
Had this power all along and didn’t even realize it! What else could I be capable of?

Unfortunately, when he tried it, the answer to his question did not include the peak or Monda.
Still have to find a way to get more magic. There has to be a way.

He practiced until the sun began to set, and completed his final teleportation to the bottom of the hill.

Then he felt her.

His mother.

She’s here.

He saw a vision of her in the tent. She looked gaunt and nearly a decade older in just the few months since she’d left Anatolus. She stood over her bed, a piece of paper in her hands.

“Mom!” he screamed, and he ran up the hill, losing the vision of her. “Mooom!”

Others emerged from their tents and saw the young boy, still with his mask on, sprinting past them and to his tent. He ran through the flap to the other side and found it empty. He cursed loudly and kicked his bed, stubbing his toe. He ignored the pain and went to the bed he had envisioned his mother at and saw a piece of paper tucked in.

Was this here… for the last year? No, don’t be crazy, don’t be stupid. That just… she was just here. She put it there.

He grabbed the note, his hand shaking, as he read.

“My dear Typhos,

I am sorry for everything that has happened in the last six months.”

Really? No, you’re not. Not if you say it through a letter.

“I did not leave you because I wanted to, or because of grief. I had a commitment on Monda that I had to be there to fulfill.”

Here we go again, being coy and vague. Better say what “things” are.

“It is usually not my mode to be completely honest because I never want to hurt people. But I need to tell you the truth.”

Typhos looked up. He saw scrawl of text beneath it but had not yet read it. He took a deep breath and kept reading.

“I did not just fall in love with the man on Monda. I bore his son.”

Knew it.

“I felt and feel awful. If I could, I’d make sure I never got pregnant so I could still be there with you. But I faced a terrible choice. I knew you wanted to stay here and become chief.”

I just wanted to have influence and not feel worthless.

“But I could not raise the child of a man on Monda on a different world. He wanted his son on Monda, and I could not deny him that. Nor could I deny that son a mother. Typhos, you are my son, but you are also becoming a man. I have to be here for my son. I—”

“You coward!” he yelled as the sniffles came through. “You coward. Why. You couldn’t just tell us!”

He ripped the paper to shreds, refusing to read the rest, and burned it.

Garron came running in the tent, and though he would never read the note, he could put it together when he saw the bits of paper on the ground. He picked Typhos up and hugged him, but the boy was weak in the legs.

“Typhos, what did the note say?” Garron asked.

Typhos just softly cursed, appreciating the embrace but also ignoring Garron.

“Typhos, can you please let me know?”

She’s gone. So treat it like she’s gone.

“Suicide note,” he said.

Garron gasped, but said nothing. Typhos motioned for him to leave, and he did so in a state of shock.

Typhos sat on his bed. He despised his mother.
She chose a new son over me. Fine. I don’t need a mother. As far as I’m concerned, I’ve never had parents. I’m like a deity, created with great power.

He sensed his mother but screamed, “No! I never want to see you again, Aida!”

It’s all on me now. Goodbye, Mom.

I wish…

No. You’re gone. I don’t want you back.

34

“Typhos?”

The boy heard the gentle voice of his best friend and motioned for him to come in.

“My dad told me what happened. You OK?”

I’m fine. I’m fine. I’m fine.

“Yeah, nothing I can do about it,” Typhos said dismissively as Pagus took a seat on Typhos’ right. “I’m just gonna focus on what I can control, and that is getting on the council once they figure out who becomes chief.”

“Just like that?” Pagus said in shock.

Typhos looked over with disdain at Pagus for continuing the discussion.

“Yeah,” he said curtly.

Pagus looked out ahead, saying, “OK,” while not looking at Typhos.

“But you do know that’s going to take some time,” Pagus said. “Dad said the process of choosing a new chief takes months. You gotta give time for people to mourn, then decide who will run, and if more than one person wants to run—which there always are—then you have to let them talk to the council, who in turn talk to the Kastori as a whole. And—”

“Man, the way you’re describing it, I almost would rather just take the thing without asking,” Typhos spat.

“Yeah, right?” Pagus said, gently patting his friend’s shoulder. “Well, if you do run, you better get in there now. People unfortunately expected this to come, and a couple of the councilors have already begun campaigning for the role of chief in anticipation of this.”

“Is your dad running?”

Pagus shook his head quickly.

“If anything, he’s thinking about retiring soon,” Pagus said, which sent amusing feelings through Typhos.
I could take his father’s place. Wouldn’t that be something.
“No. I hear it’s going to be Ramadus and Fargus running.”

“So an idiot and a man on his death bed,” Typhos deadpanned, drawing a laugh from Pagus that Typhos did not join. “I should just run. Those two fools?”

“Yeah, I mean, I’d support you in that,” Pagus said without sarcasm. “But unfortunately, as my Dad says, politics is twenty percent skill, forty percent presentation, and forty percent knowing the right people. And right now, you might crush the other two in skill and maybe even in presentation, but those two know the other councilors much better. It’s funny. As goofy as Ramadus is, it kind of works in his favor.”

Typhos sighed loudly and placed his head in his hands.

“Like I said, though, Dad might retire soon and then if Ramadus wins… a black magic councilor seat opens up.”

“Yeah, but then I have to be a councilor for Ramadus, ugh.”

The two briefly laughed, but when the laughter died, nothing about the situation felt funny to Typhos. If Ramadus became chief, it would serve as another reminder that the council had lost its touch.

35

A month later, Typhos stood at the edge of the hill in silence with Pagus by his side, about the only person left he felt a shred of connection to.
All this time. Bout a year since Mom left. Dad’s been gone for just a little longer.

And I don’t feel any better.

The pain never gets any better, at least not in the big picture. About the only time I feel good is when I’m casting powerful spells and demonstrating my skills. Otherwise… it’s just ennui.

So much for time helping. It doesn’t.

“Typhos,” Pagus said.

The boy turned to his good friend with a weary expression written on his face, more out of courtesy for whatever Pagus had to say.

“You good?”

Typhos gave a snort.

“No.”

“It’s not going to get much better for you two,” Garron said as he approached the two boys.

“Dad?” Pagus said, confused that his father would have arrived before the sun set.

“Typhos, I know how you feel about who is running for the role of chief, and I’m here to tell you the results. You might as well hear it now.”

Oh no. He’s not this way if Fargus won.

“Ramadus won. He’ll be sworn in as the new chief in the next couple of days.”

“Lovely,” Typhos said. “Just… lovely. Do you know how screwed we are, Garron?”

Garron put his hands up to calm the young man, but it only made things worse.

“He’s so dumb and bumbling! The fact that he’s becoming the chief—I don’t care how liked he is. You don’t pick someone just because they can be friends with everyone! The people are screwed!”

And he’s never going to fill that last seat, either. We’re just going to be meandering along. He’s under no obligation to, so why would he?

And the Kastori…

This is bad. This is really, really bad.

Life just can’t get any worse.

“Just give him a chance, Typhos,” Garron said. “You don’t know how it will turn out.”

“I don’t need to,” Typhos said.

He sneered, and the way he spoke instilled fear even in himself.

“All he gets is a brief chance.”

And if he fails that chance, I’m taking everything out on him.

36

At the same spot where Typhos had watched his father dissolve into crumbles of ash and black smoke, he stood at the front of hundreds of rows of Kastori, directly on the aisle where the council would process. He had his black robes pulled over his head, making it difficult to analyze his facial expression. He wanted to wear the mask, but not at the risk of bringing attention to himself.

To his left, Pagus stood, his robes in a much more relaxed and comfortable position. He had a nervous energy to him, excited to witness the swearing in of a new chief yet tempered by the anger Typhos felt.

The council desperately needs help. They’re beyond saving. Everyone’s far too old, even Amelia. If Ramadus ever fills out that last spot…

He’s got to go. We—I—have got to find a way to get him thrown out somehow. As long as he’s the deciding vote, the fool will lead us all into trouble.

All whispers and murmurs went silent when the five council members not elected chief formed a V-formation at the back of the crowd. Fargus led the group with Garron and Cleatra on his left and Amelia and Lyos on his right. They slowly processed, keeping their eyes straight ahead. Behind them, Ramadus, wearing the traditional golden robes of the chief, walked with a goofy smile that Typhos wanted to obliterate.
There’s no way that guy has greater command of magic than Fargus. Or common sense. Or intelligence. Or social graces. Or…

Ramadus walked by and gave a short nod to Typhos. Typhos barely tilted his head, enough to qualify as a reaction but not one that would give the chief any satisfaction.
Not that it matters. He won’t even remember this in five minutes.

The council stopped before a short platform created for the ceremony. Ramadus circled and went to the top. The council inverted itself, and Fargus cleared his throat, using magic to project his voice for all Kastori to hear.

“Good morning to all Kastori,” he said, his voice strained.

That’s awfully audacious to ask Fargus to speak after he lost to an idiot. Wonder what Fargus thinks of this.

“We have gathered here to witness the swearing in of our newest chief.”

Raucous, wild applause broke out, and Typhos looked around with narrowed eyes. Were the people that stupid? Was he the only one who saw what was wrong with Ramadus?
At least Pagus has the good sense to keep his applause at a minimum.

But the rest of the Kastori… are they like Ramadus? Stupid and easily swept up by the moment?

They will be nothing but pawns for me if so. I don’t have an obligation to guide the people. The people won’t know which way to go. I’ll have to help myself, and I know what I want is what will make the Kastori great.

One less thing to worry about.

Typhos smiled at the thought, but Fargus spoke again. The reminder of why they were all there sank his mood quickly.

“Ramadus is a great man. He…”

Typhos rolled his eyes and zoned out, instead thinking about what he would need to do to become a member of the council.
Speak to a council member, express interest, and when the seat is declared open, speak to the entire council.

If Ramadus opens the position. Which he doesn’t have to. But that’s dumb. Does he want black magic underrepresented? Does he not want equal voices? Does he not want to ever be in the spot where he could be the deciding vote?! Why—

“Hey,” Pagus said, and Typhos suddenly became self-conscious of his heavy breathing. “You OK?”

Typhos deliberately slowed his breathing and turned to his friend, but not far enough to see his face. He gave a short nod and turned his attention back to Fargus. Pagus said nothing more.