Rex Aftermath (Elei's Chronicles)

by Thoma, Chrystalla

  They hadn’t tried the bargaining chip they had. It occurred to him these three didn’t know how important Alendra was to him. They couldn’t blackmail him.

  The Echo clamped a hand to her shoulder wound. It didn’t look like she would bleed out, although Rex kept pushing him to hurt her more.

  No. Leave her be.

  He had some trouble inserting the key in his shackles, the key a pale blue object with no defined contours, but he managed to unlock his bonds, free his hands and feet, and lurch to his feet. He kicked the weapons away and motioned with the longgun toward a narrow metal door. “Carry her inside.”

  They obeyed, and he imagined they scowled but couldn’t see anything but bright lights. He followed them. Through the door he saw a small bathroom. It would do.

  “Where’s Alendra?” His hands shook and he gripped the gun until his knuckles hurt. “The blond girl who was with me.”

  They didn’t answer and he advanced on them until he aimed down at the head of the Echo. His jaw wouldn’t unclench, so the words came out in a growl. “I’m not in a good mood. Tell me before I lose my patience.”

  “The storeroom down the corridor,” the Gultur who’d been manning the monitors ground out. “After the turn. Three doors to the left.”

  He hadn’t been lying about losing it — maybe not his patience, but his control over Rex. He pistol-whipped the Gultur, knocking her out cold. It was with an effort he pulled the gun back, clicked the safety on and turned away, Rex screeching in his ears to kill them then and there.

  No.

  He holstered the gun where his Rasmus used to be and collected handguns and longguns, knives and communicators. He tied the three women, gagged them, and closed the door behind him, a detached part of his mind observing how steady his hands were, despite feeling cramped from having been tied so long.

  He stepped away from the door and found the monitors, which covered a wall from floor to ceiling. He tried to refocus on the surface of things.

  Dakru City. He rubbed his tainted eye, blinked. A huge machine stood outside the wall, turning on huge wheels, tens of cannons rotating like the spines of a sea urchin. Taking aim.

  To face two other war machines whose cannons were locked in place, aiming at the first.

  Stalemate.

  Oh gods.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “Incoming,” Mantis blurted, and Hera fought the instinctive urge to dive under the console.

  The rockets hit a moment later. The impact rocked the tower and Hera fought the controls to keep it steady. Extra thrusters on the right side: check. Equalizers at maximum capacity: check.

  “Lowering visor,” Sacmis said. “Ready in two.”

  Hera jerked as a silver helmet descended from the ceiling, attached to wires and tubes. “Sobek.”

  The helmet settled over Sacmis’ head, a visor falling in front of her face. Lights blinked on its dark crystal surface. Numbers and letters flickered.

  “We’re moving too fast,” Mantis said, “she won’t hit the target.”

  “Moving fast is the only reason we have not been killed yet,” Hera said through gritted teeth.

  “But she can’t possibly aim and—”

  “Do not worry. I’m not like you.” Sacmis’ body tensed; her fingers tightened on the levers. “I’m Regina’s child, and my mutation is that of a warrior.”

  Hera grinned, wondering if Sacmis was making it up. It occurred to her she’d never asked Sacmis what her exact abilities were.

  “Ready,” Sacmis said, as more numbers flittered on her visor, and pressed the buttons on top of the control sticks with her thumbs. “Here we go.”

  The machine vibrated, then bucked as if it was coughing, and spat two rockets. The sound of the detonation came a split second later, as the rockets flew in individual arcs toward the approaching war machines.

  Twin flashes blinded Hera for a moment. “Did they hit home?”

  Mantis, who had pressed his face to the window panel, stepped back. “Yeah. The towers have stopped moving.”

  “One of them has been heavily damaged,” Sacmis said, flicking switches and sending lights shimmering across the gauges. “The other less so. I missed its cockpit, dammit.”

  “No matter,” Hera whispered, her heart hammering. “You got them both.”

  The immobilized war machines glinted, lights blinking randomly on one of them in a garland of colors. A strange game of pawns, Hera thought as she drove toward the city, plowing between them; a surreal moment when their cockpits aligned and she saw figures moving inside the other machines.

  “I’m going to crash through the gates,” she said. “Hold on tight.”

  The immense outer gates gleamed, cast in solid steel carved with symbols, inlaid with faintly glowing moonstone, looming ever larger as they approached.

  Hail, sisters. I hope you’re watching.

  ***

  Elei stood before the wall of monitor screens. What to do now? Hera, Sacmis, Mantis. Kalaes. The kids of Teos. How could he save them? His eyes blurred.

  One step at a time. Find Alendra. Go on from there.

  He drew a deep breath, about to turn away, when he caught a glimpse of the temple of Bone Tower — white marble, pillars and statues, an altar with blazing torches. A direct feed, he realized, focused on the temple of Regina and other buildings Elei didn’t recognize.

  Broadcasting directly to Dakru City, where the regime and the corrupt resistance council were probably biding their time, watching. Waiting for victory.

  His hands clenched.

  The temple, Iset had said. If you took out the temple, their symbol of power, they might fall.

  Might.

  Right.

  What he should do was get Alendra out of there and run for their lives. The plan had been madness from the get-go and now it was falling apart. Had Mantis known the Gultur had war machines patrolling their capital? Did he have a back-up plan?

  In the bunch of keys, he found the ones to the monitor room. Making sure the corridor outside was empty, he stepped out and locked the door, then drew the gun he’d taken and stumbled down the corridor. Rex kept sending jabs down his spine, insisting he go back, finish off the Gultur locked up in the bathroom.

  No.

  Besides. Not his war, not his battle. Rex, the New Gultur, everyone asking him to choose, to decide between... home and the world, friends and enemies, right from wrong...

  Shit, he didn’t know what in the hells they expected him to do. Be what you are. Do what you think is right.

  Yeah.

  How far do you think you can run? Rex whispered. Do you really think you can outrun the regime?

  His fingers tightened around the grip of the gun. Shut up.

  The room where Alendra was kept would surely be guarded. He slowed to a stop where the corridor curved and took a deep breath. Sugar was in the air. Gultur waited around the corner.

  Thudthudthud went his heartbeat, trying to bore like a drill through his ribcage. Colors, sparkles, and a familiar itching at his wrists and temples.

  Scent change. To fool the guards, make them think he was one of them.

  His lips pulled back in a snarl. Surprise, he thought, and brought the gun forward, holding it in both hands, as he stepped out into the open.

  The guards posted on either side of the door wore no helmets or visors. He saw their eyes widen as they took in his appearance and the gun trained on them. They never stood a chance.

  He fired, bringing them down, the silencer muffling the gunshots. Rex sent a thrill through his nerves, blew sighs and whispers in his mind.

  Dammit. Stop. It’s not a pleasure.

  He holstered the gun and strode to the door, lifted the bunch of keys and squinted at them. Rex was still humming through his senses, painting the world in colorful shifting panels. He groaned in frustration and tried closing his possessed eye, but Rex wasn’t having it and sent a jolt through him, almost knocking him down. He barely kept his feet.

&nb
sp; Not funny.

  He tried key after key in the lock, hoping the right one was somewhere in there. His hands shook.

  When the lock snipped open, at first he thought he’d imagined it. Was he even opening the correct room?

  “Elei?” Alendra’s soft voice. Her fresh scent washed over him.

  “Ale?” His voice almost broke. He could hardly believe it when her arms wound around him, when he’d thought... when he’d feared...

  He hid his face in her hair and struggled to control himself.

  “Iset and Bestret,” Alendra said, muffled against his jacket. “We must find them.”

  Find them? He blinked. “Why should I care about Iset and Bestret?” He closed his eyes. Oh right. She didn’t know how crazed they were; she’d been out cold. “We need to get out of here, fast.”

  “We can’t leave them. They saved your life!”

  Yeah. Right before they practically exchanged it for entry into the citadel.

  They had saved his life, though. But they’d thought him immortal and themselves infallible. Such a human mistake.

  Traitors, Rex hissed in his mind.

  Believers in you, Elei thought. Damn complicated life.

  But what if their crazy plans involved something useful? He should talk to them at least. They might know where to get an aircar and hightail it out of there.

  “Do you know where they are?” he asked.

  “Taken for interrogation to the Police station.”

  Police station. He remembered glimpses of rooms and pillars and a red-headed woman. Blood. A hell of a lot of blood. The gun in his hand warm, his ears ringing from the shot.

  “Elei.” Alendra shook him. “Come on.”

  Alendra’s presence had relaxed Rex enough that he could see her wide eyes. “Yeah, let’s go.”

  They crept out and the cloying scent assaulted him, stronger than ever. Gultur. Many of them, coming their way.

  The respite was over.

  He grabbed Alendra’s hand and ran, their boots thumping on the polished floor. If they got out of the building he could get his bearings. Though that was a long shot; he didn’t remembered much.

  Better than staying for his own execution.

  They raced through the building. He hesitated at a junction, randomly decided on a left turn and set off again. He wished he could see where they were going.

  No such luck. Colors, colors everywhere. Blue metal doors, red flickering here and there as they pounded by, and the snick of pistols loading and voices rising in alarm.

  Move.

  Rex made it easy. Don’t think. Push Alendra into the wall, open a door as a shield as bullets snapped around them, shove off and ran down the corridor curve, slip into an open office as more bullets flew, clap a hand over a Gultur’s mouth as Rex screeched, then crouch low as she tried to bite off his fingers—

  Alendra drew his gun and pistol-whipped the Gultur to unconsciousness. Elei blinked, letting the woman fall, letting Alendra pull him to his feet.

  Ally, Rex whispered in his head.

  No shit.

  Then they were running along more winding corridors; a claustrophobic spiral, sucking them in. Sweat drenched him, his heart hammering faster and faster. Was there no damn way out?

  Finally a door opened and they fell into the cold night. He stumbled to a stop, gasping in lungfuls of fresh air. Alendra turned to him, and her colors pulsed faintly, beautifully. She glowed like a sunset.

  Rex hummed in approval. Accepting her. Accepting she was part of him.

  He dredged his memories of that day, weeks ago, when he’d broken into Bone Tower and infected the water. He tugged Alendra to the left. Uniform white buildings with oval windows like dark mouths, trees.

  A park — a memory of a girl combing her long hair — and up the slope, toward the temple. He stumbled, the images hitting him like blades — the carved facade of the temple urns, the reliefs of gods and demons and creatures of the deep, Kalaes shouting his name, the agony of bullets ripping through muscle and bone, the frigid kiss of the water—

  “Come on, they’re right after us!” Alendra dragged him behind a wall, her terrified breaths washing against his neck as she huddled close.

  He turned his head and saw the glowing shapes of Gultur rushing by, their shields and guns painted a faint blue by Rex. A patrol.

  The police station loomed in the distance, a multistory building, narrower at the top. Somewhere behind it were the gates to the city, had to be, if his memories were anything to go by.

  His hair was plastered to his forehead, dripping in his eyes. He pushed it back, shivering.

  Maybe they should leave Iset and Bestret to their fates. Serve them right for delivering him like a rabid animal to be butchered.

  Rex hummed, angry.

  But they might be the only two people in the citadel who could help. A battle was raging in Dakru City. Hera, Sacmis and Mantis were out there, outnumbered and laying down their lives for peace.

  Iset and Bestret had devised a plan. They’d brought explosives. They’d been damn wrong to deliver him to his executioners against his will, but their motivation had been sound.

  Maybe fate had brought him back to the citadel. Maybe he could stop the fleet of Bone Tower and give Hera a chance at victory.

  But how?

  The patrol faded into the shadows of the park, the tall trees whispering in the chilly breeze, and Elei straightened, wincing, leg and back muscles protesting. He dragged Alendra to her feet and set off to follow, the houses on the right flickering with life forms, the tree branches with tiny lights — birds or insects. Running steps alerted him to another patrol just as the sweet scent hit, and they dived behind a fence laden with flowers, pinpricks of yellow luminescence.

  The scent of fresh water drifted downhill from the temple urns, mingling with a thousand odors, above all the malevolent scent of Gultur elite.

  His heart thudded faster. If Rex got crazy with one Echo around, now it was delirious — and angry. Kill them, it whispered. Kill them.

  Alendra pulled on his arm and he followed her, his thoughts jumbled and shot through with Rex’s whispers. Rex swept the area again and again — living, organic, metal, nepheline — making him dizzy.

  Throwing up now would suck, but with Rex messing with his head, blood loss, topped with lack of food and exhaustion, falling on his face in the street could become an embarrassing habit.

  Right on cue, Rex screeched in his ears — killkillkill — and the scent grew stifling; too close, too many.

  He grabbed Alendra around the waist and walked her backward behind the huge trunk of a tree. He put his hands on either side of her uptilted face, a glowing oval, and the bark was rough against his palms. He wished he could see her expression. Her mouth opened, to ask a question perhaps, and he placed a finger on her soft lips.

  Another patrol thumped by, three Echoes leading them, marked by their distinctive gold-orange glow. They headed toward the temple.

  A sacrifice. Regina’s festival.

  Kill them all.

  With a shake of his head he stepped back and Alendra pushed away from the tree trunk.

  “Are they gone?” she whispered.

  “Yeah.” Follow them, Rex purred. Find them and cut them down. “Dammit.”

  “What is it?” Alendra took his hand, as if she knew he felt lost.

  “Nothing.” He pointed at the tall building. “See the police station?”

  She nodded and started walking. He let her lead him, focusing on her small hand in his, her scent, the pale mist of her hair, and with Rex jabbing at his nerves, pulling him toward the temple and death, he could only pray she wouldn’t let go.

  ***

  Hera breathed in and out, trying for calm, but battle lust made her heart boom.

  Aircars were approaching, trying in vain to stop them — tiny like children’s toys, easily shoved aside by the machine’s enormous wheels or crunched into pulp.

  The steer kicked in Hera’s
hands; she tightened her hold, steadied their course. “Strike the gates down, Sacmis,” she rasped, her throat dry.

  “Ready to launch missiles,” Sacmis said.

  This is it. Nunet help us.

  The cockpit vibrated as the launchers rotated and locked onto their target.

  Sacmis leaned forward, her face hidden behind her visor, information scrolling over the glass-like surface. “On the count of ten.”

  Nine, eight, Hera counted under her breath as they rolled toward the shiny gates. Seven, six.

  An impact rocked them.

  Five, four.

  Sacmis muttered something, muffled by the visor.

  Two, one.

  “Five hells,” Mantis whispered in the hush.

  The launchers kicked and boomed. The missiles exploded against the gates, the blast deafening through the smashed windows.

  But the gates held, the metal melting into distorted shapes. Holy Sobek. The enormous doors did not fall — but they swung inward. Just a crack, like a timid invitation.

  “Going in.” Ears ringing, Hera drew a deep breath and pressed on the accelerator. Speed, max. Thrusters, max. Dakron combustion optimal.

  The steer quivered in her hands. She let her breath out and sent the war machine rolling faster, on collision course. Mantis crouched between the seats, his dark eyes round. Sacmis held the armrests.

  The metal panels of the gates rushed at them, smoking from the hits, looming larger and larger. A violent impact, a feeling of pressure, then release—

  The machine lurched forward, jerking Hera in her seat, and the gates shuddered and swung wide, letting them through into the outer city.

  Oh gods in the deep. They rolled among the white buildings, through the wide avenues, heading toward the wall of the inner city.

  Hera’s pulse thudded. Was this really happening?

  “Hera?” Mantis whispered, grabbing her shoulder. “We made it.”

  She nodded, her throat tight, closing up. “We’re inside.”

  Chapter Sixteen