Final_RexRising_ChrystallaThoma_Kindle

by Thoma, Chrystalla

  “Is it?” She turned serious, dropped her hand and glanced over her shoulder at the temple with the water jets. Her eyes glinted like a cat’s, and sudden fear rose in his throat. “Not everything is as it seems to be, my king. You’ll see.”

  He jerked awake to a sound he couldn’t place. It made him think of pain. He stayed very still, listening.

  A moan.

  He pushed himself to his feet, muscles screaming, pulled out his gun, and stumbled to the door. His heart thumped, but the world didn’t bloom into colors like every time since he could remember. Why was cronion not reacting? Was it truly dead?

  He considered the situation. They’d been found, obviously. Someone had hurt the others, but had missed him.

  Screw them. They were going to pay dearly. Now this sickness was over, he would finally take action. He leveled his gun and softly pushed the door of the other room, looked inside.

  And froze.

  On the couch lay two bodies. Elei stared, hardly breathing. The bodies moved. Not dead, they were not dead. And… He saw dark curls and a woman’s beautiful breasts, small and firm with sugar brown nipples. Her long legs were creamy white, stretched out and displayed against the dark green fabric of the couch. A man’s broad back, unmarred, smooth, rippled with muscles as he nuzzled her neck. Drops of sweat rolled down his spine, catching a lamp’s faint light with tiny sparks. A soft moan sounded.

  And Elei still stared like a fool. Pissing hells.

  He’d almost shot them.

  Elei lowered his gun and backed out before they sensed his presence, before he spoilt it for them. He staggered out, leaned on a wall and cursed silently. Of course. He should have expected it.

  Kalaes had finally convinced Maera to have sex.

  Perhaps Kalaes would laugh all day now — after all, he’d grinned through most of the previous mess. There had to be an upping of the stakes. Perhaps he’d jump around and shout. Perhaps he’d sing stupid love songs.

  Elei felt empty as he fell back into his armchair. He should be happy for them. He didn’t know why he wasn’t. A strange feeling of betrayal turned his thoughts bitter.

  Come on, he told himself. What is this now? Did you want Maera for yourself? Is that it? Did you intend to try and take her from Kalaes, the guy who has helped you and lost everything because of you? Who was going to buy a mattress, let you sleep in his apartment while he had one? Aren’t you disgusted with yourself?

  He was. He stared at his gun stupidly. Was that the reason he felt like that? Jealousy? Pettiness?

  Or did he feel left out? Pushed aside? Like the proverbial third wheel?

  Hells. He’d thought himself nobler.

  But, as usual, he was wrong when it came to judging human character. Even his own.

  Chapter 17

  Draped uncomfortably on the armchair, Elei closed his eyes and tried to catch another wink before dawn broke. Then the sunlight from the window hit him square in the face and he gave up. He stood and tried to work out the kinks by stretching his arms and walking up and down. His body still wasn’t very happy with him, but Elei couldn’t complain. He’d brushed by death close enough to believe there would be no return this time — yet here he was, alive and kicking.

  Elei rubbed the side of his neck and up his cheek, feeling the new tel-marks, rough snake scales that had spread there. His skin felt hot, like burning dakron. He stood at the window and gazed over the mountain slope at the scintillating rocks and a hint of the plain below, the light spreading wide like water.

  Water. Poena’s words echoed in his head. Spill blood in the water. The fountainhead and the temple. What a weird dream.

  Then he remembered Maera and Kalaes. Embarrassment fought with unease, hot and cold rushing through him. What in the hells is wrong with me? He raked his hands through his hair and spun around. He’d take a shower. Celebrate his survival.

  Scratching at the maddening, all-consuming itch on his arms, he entered the bathroom. A rusty showerhead jutted from the wall, and in a corner of the concrete floor was a drain. A stained curtain hung from hooks in the ceiling, but otherwise the room was clean. Good enough. A cracked mirror was mounted on the wall and he consciously opted not to look. He didn’t need to see his own accusing glare. He noticed a stool underneath the sink with a stack of folded towels. What else could anyone ask for?

  He shut and locked the door, placed his gun on top of the towels and stripped. Carefully, he unwound the bandage from his waist. The wound was healing, red and tender. He stepped underneath the showerhead and turned the faucet on. Pipes creaked and groaned, then came a rushing noise and water gurgled. He let out an involuntary cry as the cold water hit him, a rain of razor blades. In his limited experience with washing, he’d never been drenched in such icy water and with such pressure. The wet rags he’d normally use to clean up just didn’t compare.

  Teeth chattering, Elei scrubbed himself with his hands the best he could and washed as thoroughly as possible without a soap. Well, at least his skin was now numb and the burning sensations ceased. He hissed when he turned his face into the icy spray, and his fists clenched in reaction. Oh, gods, the things one did to get clean.

  He bowed his head under the spray, letting it drench his grimy hair, and passed his hands through it, dislodging dried blood and grit. He rubbed his neck, his shoulders, his stomach. The image of Maera’s naked breasts flashed through his mind briefly, teasingly, and despite the cold he ached with desire.

  Elei snarled at himself and his idiocy. He’d never even been with a woman before, not past the kissing part anyway, and he wasn’t about to start with Kalaes’ girlfriend. There would be other women, perhaps, if he got out of this mess.

  The sting of the cold became too much. Screw showering. He took a step away from the spray.

  His skin flared with fire, an unbearable itch that burned and ate at his flesh. With a gasp, he returned under the showerhead to find relief, hand closing over the faucet and cranking it up. The shock of the cold gave way to a need for wetness, a deep urge to fall into the water, to dissipate in it. Whispers played in his mind, images of fountains and streams gurgling down wide ditches, the water swirling in transparent eddies, bringing with it all that was dead. He saw himself fall into the streams, carried out and plummeting into sea; diving to green and blue depths, steeped in quiet.

  A boom shattered the calm.

  He blinked and blue radiance jumped around him, outlining each object. He rubbed his eye and took a deep breath when the brightness faded.

  The booming sound came again and he became aware of loud knocking on the door.

  “Dammit, Elei, are you all right in there?” Kalaes’ worried voice. “You’ve been in there for ages. Elei!”

  He raised his hands and spread his fingers. His nails were a deep blue from the cold and he started to shiver all over. “I’m fine!” His clenched jaw didn’t allow more words.

  Kalaes stopped trying to cave in the door and quiet fell once more.

  Turning off the water, he grabbed a towel and rubbed himself roughly, more to restart circulation rather than to get dry. He forced his shaking limbs into his clothes and finally glanced at the mirror. With his fingers, he tried to straighten his short hair as much as he could, ignoring the image of his hollow cheeks and angry eyes.

  But then something caught his attention and he leaned closer. If cronion was gone, instead of cronion’s dull green, his right eye ought to be the same brown color as the other one. But it wasn’t; it was a clear, light blue.

  Elei frowned. The hell? Then his gaze caught dark spots on his neck. He pulled down his high polo-neck. New marks, small, dark and round like beads, a necklace of them.

  Shaking his head, he unlocked and yanked the door open.

  “Elei? What are you doing?”

  He flinched. Maera stood at the opening, wrapped in a blanket, her naked shoulders round and flawless. His body got that same appropriate reaction again — or was it inappropriate, now that she was Kalaes’ girlf
riend? — and he realized he was gaping. “I’m just—”

  “Are you finished here? Can I use the toilet?”

  Cursing inwardly, he nodded. He brushed by her on his way out and stumbled, barely avoided falling onto his face by hanging onto the door handle at the last second.

  Just pissing great. He wondered if he could make a greater fool of himself. It had to stop right there. He didn’t desire Maera. He didn’t, really didn’t.

  It was his new mantra.

  Then the fine hairs on his nape bristled. He whirled about.

  Kalaes stared at him with a grin on his face, leaning on the door frame, arms folded over his naked chest. A pendant hung around his neck, a medallion of dull metal with a map of the seven islands. He had an old palantin scar on one arm, a nasty disease Elei had thankfully managed to avoid as a child, and plenty of old fight scars on his chest and forearms. It looked like, in his past, Kalaes had been stabbed, slashed and shot at quite a lot. He also had a tattoo over his heart — a circle with a star inside.

  “What are you staring at, fe?” Kalaes grinned and lifted his chin. “D’you like my tattoos?”

  Elei wrenched his gaze away. “Are they gang tattoos?”

  Kalaes tsked. “This one is.” He placed three fingers against the three parallel lines marking his cheek. “Though I don’t have a gang anymore.”

  So much for belonging to Kalaes’ gang, then. Maera and her ideas. Oddly disappointed, Elei stomped out and into the room where he’d spent the night. He rubbed his burning shoulders through the rough cloth of the sweater and told himself to get a grip.

  Kalaes’ steps followed him. “You took a shower, huh? How was the experience?”

  “It was pissing cold.”

  Kalaes laughed out loud, a deep resonating sound. So, Kalaes was laughing. Check. Wait for the dance of joy, coming up next.

  “Sorry, fe. I’ve never heard you say the word ‘pissing’ before. I must be rubbing off on you.”

  Yeah.

  “You won’t believe this, fe.”

  Try me, Elei thought darkly.

  “Maera and I…”

  Elei waited, heart pounding.

  Kalaes just chuckled and shook his head. He played with the medallion hanging on his chest. “Um, listen. I need to thank you.”

  “Thank me?”

  “Yeah. All this being chased around and the stress, well, it kind of made up her mind. To have sex with me, fe.”

  “You’re crazy, you know that?” An exasperated sigh left his lips, despite his best efforts. Kalaes had lost his job and his apartment and he was on the run. But he’d gotten some and now he was floating on a pink cloud.

  And why not? Elei rubbed the back of his neck. I’ve lost everything and got no sex. At least he did, and with a pretty girl, too. The one he wanted. He has a right to be happy.

  So happy he hadn’t noticed anything strange about Elei’s fast recovery, or about the strange new color of his right eye.

  Elei turned to the window.

  And why wouldn’t Maera make up her mind about Kalaes? He was a handsome man. Apart from his hands and the old palantin scar on his arm, he had no other marks of parasites that Elei had noticed. Strong shoulders, square jaw. Clean of illnesses. Probably had lots of different antibodies. Just what a girl might want.

  “What’s this?” Kalaes came to stand beside Elei, wrinkling his nose. “Can you smell it?”

  “Smell what, Kalaes?” Elei sniffed.

  “Just call me Kal, all right, fe? Smells like spice. Like pepper. It must be the soap.”

  Elei pursed his lips. He’d found no soap. “Nah.” He sniffed his skin and stiffened. Pepper. Spot on. Cronion and telmion didn’t smell like that. A new parasite. Everything pointed to such a conclusion.

  Kalaes spun around at the sound of the bathroom door opening. “I’ll go clean myself, then let’s see what we’ve got to eat.”

  Elei shook himself like a dog. He had to move, not let his mind sink into useless fears and doubts. It had always worked for him before.

  He went to check and found half a bottle of water and a slice of stale blue bread. End of list. He turned the slice of bread over in his hand, hungry but not sure it was fair to eat it and leave nothing for the others.

  “Hey.”

  He almost dropped the bread.

  Maera smirked at him. “I’m going out.”

  “Where?”

  “To the food store we saw on our way here” She winked. “I’ll go buy something to eat.”

  He put the bread down. “That’s dangerous. Let me—”

  But Maera laughed lightly and strolled out of the living room. He heard the main door click shut behind her.

  “—go instead,” he finished the sentence to himself.

  “Where did she go?” Kalaes said from behind his back.

  Elei gasped and turned, his pulse screaming in his ears. “Gods, don’t pissing do that!” Holy shit. He still half-expected cronion to react, but of course nothing happened. He inhaled deeply to calm his pounding heart. “She went to buy food.”

  Kalaes rubbed his eyes. “Oh. Good. Food’s good.”

  He had a point. Elei’s stomach agreed quite loudly. A craving for sugar made his mouth water. He hoped Maera would bring something sweet.

  “I feel as if a freight-barge hit me, fe. I’m exhausted.” Kalaes flopped into the chair where Elei had spent the night. “But you look much better. Back at the ruins, in the basement, you kept vomiting, and we couldn’t wake you, and you were burning up. It was all we could do to keep your airways clear for breathing and trickle water down your throat. Pissing scary, I tell you.”

  Elei shuddered.

  Kalaes pulled his knees up to his chest and rested his chin on them. The two braids hanging over his ear swung forward over his cheek. “Did you manage to remember anything, fe? About what Pelia told you?”

  “No. Do you think they’ll ever stop looking for me?” The Gultur, their spies, the Fleet.

  “Perhaps some day.” Kalaes shrugged. “But not any day soon.”

  Elei had feared as much. With nothing else to occupy his mind, which was going around in useless circles, he picked up his gun. Methodically he took it apart and put it back together. An automatic check. Then he did it again, faster.

  “Damn, you’re quick, fe.” Kalaes’ awe sounded genuine. “Looks like you know your gun. A Rasmus, isn’t it? Old model. Are you a good shot?”

  Elei nodded. Cronion helped with quick reflexes and good vision. He wondered how his skill would be affected now cronion was gone, and he swallowed fear. He’d been the best of his line at the training drills of the factory convent. Probably the reason Pelia had chosen him as her driver. Maybe. That was what the monks had said.

  He preferred to think she’d liked him from the start, like a mother who would recognize her child in a crowd.

  Yeah, right. What a moronic notion. Just like the happy endings in Albi’s bedtime stories.

  The main door of the apartment creaked and cold washed down Elei’s spine. He jumped to his feet and stepped out of the room and into the hallway, gun trained on whoever walked through.

  “I’m back, guys!” Maera entered like a bright morning, smiling and carrying two bags in her arms.

  Elei sagged against the wall and lowered his gun. Just Maera. She brushed past him and he trailed after her. She dropped the bags on the table and took out smoked herring and blue bread. He helped her unpack the rest and they sat down to eat. With each bite, he tried not to stare at the two of them, at the way their thighs touched and their hands brushed against each other all the time, at their secret smiles and giggles.

  Instead, he gazed at the packages of food without really seeing them.

  Yeah, well, he wasn’t going to stay with Kalaes and Maera forever. At some point he’d have to leave and leave for good. Leave them in peace. He owed them that much. Let them rebuild their lives, free of suspicion and pursuers.

  “Hey! Where’s your mind wander
ing off to again, fe?”

  He dredged up a smile for Kalaes and stuffed his mouth with sugary K-blooms to avoid answering. He sighed in relief at the sweet taste and something unclenched in his gut.

  “What are we going to do now?” Maera asked.

  Her question hung like a cleaver over their heads.

  “Wait.” Kalaes bit into an algae biscuit and chewed noisily. “We wait. Hera said she’ll come.”

  “And you trust her? I don’t.” Maera pulled one cloth-clad leg up and rested her elbow on her knee.

  “Because she makes fun of you.” Kalaes poked her side and she giggled. “Hey, little girl.” His grin reached his ears, and Elei looked away, wincing.

  Stop it, he told himself. Be happy. Smile.

  He tried to, but it felt like a grimace.

  “Whatever, Kal.” Maera rolled her eyes. “You know that’s not the reason.”

  “I know. I don’t trust her either, Mae. But she’s helping us. I can’t think of anyone else who would right now.”

  “And when Hera comes,” Maera drew out the name, “what then? Can we go back to Aerica? We have no jobs, and you’ve got no apartment, and I’m sure if I’m gone any longer my landlady will throw my things into the street, or, better still, sell them.”

  They sat in stale silence.

  All this supposing we survive, Elei thought. Supposing at some point they let us go and live in peace. He pressed his thumb against his forehead. Or at least them.

  Kalaes pulled Maera closer, his arms circling her waist, and Elei shot to his feet. He grabbed a piece of bread and went to ruminate by the window.

  Morning had rolled into high noon. Daylight glinted on the mountain slopes, reflecting on buildings and aircars. Blinded, he half-closed his eyes. They hurt, and lights danced before him. It was as if the sky swarmed with aircraft.

  He blinked and rubbed his eyes.

  The sky swarmed with aircraft.

  He dropped to the floor, the bread falling from his hand. “Shit!” Fear rolled inside him in great, towering waves.

  “Elei?” Kalaes scrambled out of his seat. His whole body blazed a deep crimson. “What is—”