Kastori Tribulations (The Kastori Chronicles Book 3) (5 page)

His voice trailed off.

“Dad probably regrets not being around for Mom enough,” he said.

Normally loquacious, Pagus said nothing more, his eyes looking anywhere but at Typhos. Typhos looked out east, where more mountain peaks and valleys blocked his view of the ocean. He had made the walk of a couple of days many times and yearned for the day when he could teleport to the ocean to escape from the thoughts that ran through his mind and the tough moments with Pagus.
Nowhere else seems to get rid of these swirling emotions.

“You? Why chief?”

Typhos looked back at Pagus, who had regained his strength and had a friendly smile, a clear sign the previous conversation was closed.
Why not chief? My parents are. My power is better than anyone here. It’s self-evident. I mean…

“I…”

I don’t actually know why. I just know why I would be the best candidate. And it just is sort of inevitable with my parents.

Silence settled on the two boys who could talk through an entire night—and who had done so at least three times in the last two years. Typhos thought of the duties of the chief and simply figured he could do them.

But why do I want to do them? Power? Assumption? Greed? Do good?

Why does it matter? Why can’t being the best at this be good enough?

“You need another three years to think about it?” Pagus said with a snort.

Typhos refused to answer, wanting to think of a genuine response. Pagus dropped the playful mocking. The two looked up at the yellow evening sky, the space above them providing no inspiration for an answer.

Exploration. Leadership. Leadership? Guide Kastori. It’s the best I can come up with.

“Honestly…” Typhos began, but he still didn’t love the answer in his mind. “It’s just… something about being in charge of people, and reaching new heights with them. I’m ambitious, it’s what I am. Being the chief and the savior of the Kastori, guiding our entire race—that excites me. That touches my soul, and it just feels right. I don’t have any qualms or doubts about it. It’s something more ephemeral than a basic reason. You know?”

“Sorta,” Pagus said, and Typhos could tell he didn’t understand.

“OK, it’s like, I hear stories of all these worlds out there, but I don’t know a lot about them. I don’t know how much the council knows about them. I have this insatiable thirst to find out as much as I can—it’s almost a curse, the way things just stick in my mind until I resolve them. And the sense of the universe is something I desperately want to explore, and I think I can do so as chief. That’s… that’s as good an answer as you’ll get right now, in the last hours of me being fourteen.”

Pagus nodded, seemingly satisfied with the answer, if not fully comprehending it.
I barely understand it, so if he does, he should be in my shoes. But it’s trivial since I’ll be there anyways.

“I’ll admit, man, you’d make a good chief. Everyone our age loves you, thinks you’re hilarious, and takes your side in most disputes. You have a very loose and free attitude that appeals to a lot of people and can relate easily to them. Just… remember this afternoon. You got some strong powers, Typhos.”

“I know,” Typhos said, a mix of pride and understanding in his voice.

“Good. On these other worlds, have you been to any?”

Typhos disappointedly shook his head.

“My mother doesn’t want me to go, so until I’m older, I’m stuck here.”

“Why?”

Typhos shrugged.
Because Mom’s dumb?

“Who knows? She thinks the Kastori should embrace their home and not constantly be on the move for new places. But… I don’t know, Pagus. That’s her choice. There’s not a whole lot I can do. I know she’s been to those worlds, but when I mention that, she says she earned it with age and experience. So…”

I’ll earn it much sooner.

His voice trailed off, and a smirk came as a gleeful thought came to mind.

“I’ll make it mandatory to visit foreign worlds when I become chief.”

“Now you’re talking,” Pagus said laughing. “What worlds are you—”

But Pagus finished when he turned to the sound of footsteps from behind them. Typhos turned and was shocked at the sight of his father. Typhos could not hide the horror on his face at the sight of Adanus—his face looked gaunt, his complexion had become much whiter, and his eyes lacked any of the spark that Typhos had grown accustomed to.
He’s not better. I’m going to press him if he says he’s fine.

He’s almost certainly dying.

“Hi son,” he said.

“Dad,” Typhos said.

“Sir,” Pagus said, quickly rising to his feet.

“It’s OK, Pagus,” his father said, his voice soft and trembling. “Are you doing well?”

“Yes sir, very much so.”

“Good. I normally wouldn’t want to interrupt you two, but I would like to speak to my son for a bit.”

“Oh, yes,” Pagus said, stumbling over what he said. “Yes, sir, sir, yes. Typhos, I’ll be around.”

He quickly departed to his tent, and Typhos had a sick feeling come over him.
Why is he out here? Did he overhear what we talked about? Is this going to be a lecture?

Or something more…

His father struggled to crouch, and Typhos offered his hand for support. Adanus accepted it and sat on the ground with a bit of a thud.

“You all right?” Typhos said.

“Nothing but a bit of a bump,” his father said with a warm but weakened smile.

“I meant—”

But something in the eye of his father shut Typhos up, preventing him from probing further into his health. Typhos looked back at the sun, now beginning to dip below the horizon, as he waited for his father to speak.

And for the first time in this spot at this time since… ever.

6

“I know it’s not very fatherly or chief-like of me to eavesdrop, but I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation with Pagus.”

Typhos’ eyes went wide with embarrassment, and his father responded with a kind laugh that turned into a heavy hacking fit. The wheezing went on for several seconds, and it sounded like his father had an aviant lodged in his windpipe. Adanus finished with a gentle pound on his chest and smiled at his son.

“Sorry. Anyways, you should have ambition. I had ambition too, although, at times, it went too far.”

Like with mom?
Typhos sat in silence, eager to have his father continue.

“I tarnished my competitors to make it easier for me to get elected. I spread rumors of deceit of my greatest foe, and he dropped out shortly after. I can’t say I’m proud of that.”

Dad does have a dark side. And it kind of paid off for him. Interesting.

Typhos tried to maintain a calm expression, but internally couldn’t help but think that his father had never confessed this to anyone. Not even to his mother, who might have spilled the secret to others.

“But ambition ultimately landed me at the head of the council and made me chief. Besides, the council does a good job of checking your ambition to make sure you don’t go too far.”

Not my kind of ambition.

“But what if the council doesn’t go far enough?” Typhos said with strong emotion. “I feel like right now, watching what it is now, it moves too slowly and works too much. I hardly ever see you or Mom.”

“That’s not something we’re proud of either, son. But if we don’t follow the process… the last thing we need is for someone to run amok as a dictator in this land.”

His eyes seemed to burrow especially deep into Typhos—
because he recognizes my pain? Or a warning? That may have been true in the past. But someone like me, who is just…

Why is he so intense now?

And why did this conversation never happen until now?

“Is there anything, in particular, you’re thinking of that we move slowly on?”

Typhos looked down at the ground, feeling pushed back by his father.
I’d have more specifics with more time to think.
He didn’t know if he should continue his line of argument—until he remembered that he would someday become chief anyways, and what Pagus had mentioned moments ago about his power.

“I know there are all these other worlds out there, worlds that we can colonize and take over, and we only use those worlds for visiting, not for living,” Typhos said, his words reserved but with a hidden desire beneath them.

His father, to Typhos’ surprise, did not react negatively.
He wants to go. Mom wants to stay. Maybe he’s hoping I can find a middle ground.

“Don’t you ever want to go anywhere, Dad? I know what you favor. Just because Mom—”

“Mom knows the history of the Kastori and what dangers emerge when we go to different worlds with different civilizations. It’s not all exploration and diplomacy. Remember, Typhos, there’s a reason most people don’t even know of other worlds. We need to keep quiet, lest they become restless and lead to a disruption of the peace we’ve had for centuries.”

Typhos sighed.
Finally get a chance to talk with my Dad, and it turns into a stupid lecture I’ve heard a hundred times.

“That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t go,” his father said with a warm smile, perhaps sensing the turning feelings of his son. “You’re in a privileged spot. You should take it while you can.”

I will. I most certainly will.

“And if you become chief—”

“If?” Typhos responded instinctively, a word that he regretted right as he said it.
Well, might as well keep going
. “What do you mean if? There’s no one with my power, and you and Mom have had that title, so—”

“Son,” Adanus said, his voice cautionary and direct. “Never assume anything. Yes, there is no one your age with your power, and that alone guarantees you will play a major role in the Kastori’s future. But do you know how many times it took me to become chief?”

Typhos assumed just once. He shrugged and said as much.

“If only,” Adanus said. “No, it took three times. If not for the relatively short lifespans of the previous chiefs, there’s a good chance I would never have gotten to this spot. Or your mother. When I applied the first couple of times, I assumed I would become chief. Same situation as yours—great power, great ambition, and so on. Believing you’ll get something, without understanding the actual job, likely means you’ll never get it, especially a job you have to be voted in for when someone dies.”

What’s there to understand? You lead the Kastori and settle quarrels. How can that possibly be difficult to comprehend?

“It’s as political a position as it is a merit-based one,” Typhos’ father said after seeing the confusion and disagreement on his son’s face.

“That’s stupid,” Typhos said without hesitation. “Why wouldn’t we want our strongest and smartest people on the council instead of just those who can suck up the best? It’s counterproductive.”

The expression on his father’s face suggested to Typhos he’d had this conversation many times before, as Adanus barely flinched.

“Because while that sounds good in theory, mere magical strength and intelligence aren’t always enough—and sometimes, those who have enough don’t want the job for a variety of reasons,” his father said, immediately bringing Pagus to mind. “Your mother, for example, is very smart and has an immense amount of power. You got your powers from her, not me. But she’s chief because she attached herself to the right people and, well, sometimes it’s a bit overwhelming and clingy, but it helped get her where she is today. She understood the politics side.”

Specifically, you.

Typhos shrugged, knowing he wouldn’t win this discussion, especially given the state his father was in.
I don’t really want to win, either. I just went off on one thing. I’ll make the changes in time.

His father suddenly hacked with such force that blood came out of his throat and splattered on the ground.

“Dad!” Typhos screamed, standing up disgusted.

“It’s a bit worse,” Adanus said as he continued coughing, albeit without blood. “But I’ll be fine, I promise.”

Just… whatever. Nothing is gonna change.

“Tell me about your test today.”

Deflecting. Again. But just go with it. Maybe if you talk enough…

“Well,” Typhos said, adding a few beats of silence so he could compose himself. “It was kind of hilarious. Tara kept scolding us and me specifically. She kept saying how Kastori magic should be used more on a need-to basis instead of showing off. But I finished the test so quickly that I just had to add a little fun to the proceedings. Nothing harmful, though.”

Much to his relief, he saw his father grinning with guilty pleasure as if he had committed his own troubles in class as a child.

“Yeah, it wasn’t difficult at all, honestly. I didn’t even study. Didn’t really see the need to.”

His father looked well for just a flash as he gave a slight chuckle, color returning to his face.

“You have a good sense of your talents and how to spend your time. But in keeping with the theme of what is and isn’t enough, understand that if you want to become chief, it’s not enough to appeal to just your friends and interests. You have to appeal to the older generation too, or at least pay your respects. You’ll never make everyone happy, and you shouldn’t try to, but there’s a line between blatant showmanship and an impressive display of magic. Aim for the latter, not the former. The former annoys the elders, and they’ll work to keep you off the council. And if they want to, they certainly can. Presentation, in essence, matters as much—really, probably more—than substance in politics. It’s a reality we all have to accept.”