Elei's Chronicles (Books 1-3)

by Chrystalla Thoma

  He didn’t know what he expected, maybe Kalaes to swallow or for the serum to spill out — but he hadn’t expected Kalaes to jerk, knock the bottle out of his hands and send it flying.

  Kalaes curled on his side, gasping. His body shook with great shudders.

  “Kal.” Elei scooted back to look into his friend’s face. Dark eyes turned on him, unfocused. “Are you okay?”

  “Zag?” Kalaes whispered and the yearning in his voice made Elei’s chest constrict. “You came.”

  “Kal...” Elei rubbed his eyes, exhausted. “I’m not Zag.” Whoever the hells he is.

  Kalaes stared at Elei, his brows arched in surprise. His usually wild hair was flattened and fell in his eyes in greasy strands, matted with blood. He brought a hand to the side of his head and winced. Then he looked around, his eyes wide in wonder.

  “Kal, what is it?”

  “What’s this?” Kalaes breathed, reaching out his hand, fingers splayed, and Elei wondered what in the hells he was seeing.

  “A safe house. Kalaes—”

  “Where’s Mei? And Fran?” His voice was hoarse, as if he’d been screaming for hours. Maybe he had, Elei thought with a wince.

  “Kal, can you hear me?” He grabbed Kalaes’ arm. “Hey, I’m talking to you. It’s me, Elei.”

  Kalaes shook harder. He curled up tighter, his eyes squeezing shut. Was he cold, too, or was it some sort of seizure? Elei reached over awkwardly and pulled up the blanket, covering him to the chin.

  “Kal?” Fear constricted his chest. “Kalaes, hey.”

  Kalaes’ face was white like a hospital sheet. “Pelia,” he rasped. “Don’t go. I can’t do this alone.” Sweat trickled down his temples, marking pale trails on his dirty skin. “Don’t go.”

  It sounded like he was replaying a memory with Pelia, and, dammit, he wasn’t waking.

  “Hey, is anybody here?” Clenching his jaw, Elei grabbed the back of a chair to stand, clamping his jaw against the white-hot pain shooting through his thigh. “Help us!”

  He barely registered the door bang open. Someone entered and rushed toward him, a woman. “Hera?” he whispered.

  “What happened? Are you two okay?” the woman asked breathlessly.

  But it wasn’t Hera. No, she was a mortal, not a Gultur. Her build was slighter, her scent different, like a light mist from the sea. She was a slim girl, about his height, with pale hair caught in a ponytail. And she was beautiful, her eyes translucent, her mouth red like a bush fruit.

  “Alendra,” he muttered. Hera had mentioned the name.

  She nodded. “And you’re Elei.” Her pale golden eyes widened. “What happened to your cheek?”

  Dazed, he raised a hand to his cheek and touched the snakeskin. He still forgot sometimes it had spread to his face. “Telmion,” he muttered.

  Alendra’s hand flew to her mouth. “Oh, gods,” she breathed. She took a step back, then, with obvious effort, she put her hand down by her side and schooled her features into a blank expression. Yet, he couldn’t help noticing that her eyes remained wide. He could smell the sharp tang of terror on her skin.

  “Help him,” he said. “Please.”

  She nodded, a strand of blond hair swinging forward, falling in her eyes. She knelt by Kalaes’ side. “Is he awake?”

  He stared down at her, the graceful shoulders, the pretty face with the wide-set eyes, the bow of the mouth, the small nose. “I don’t know,” he muttered, and tore his gaze from her face to look again at Kalaes, still trembling on the floor. “He won’t answer or recognize me.”

  “Why is he shaking like that?”

  Pain in his hands made him look down. He’d clenched his fists so tight his nails bit into his palms. “I don’t know.” He let himself down on the chair with a hiss and stretched out his leg. “Could be the drugs. Hera said they drugged him.”

  She placed a hand on Kalaes’ forehead. “He’s running a fever.”

  The fear returned. “Hera said he’ll be fine.”

  Alendra glanced up at him and grimaced. “Gods. It’s catching,” she whispered.

  “What?” He looked at Kalaes, then back at her, uncomprehending. “Him?”

  “Not him.” She frowned. “Telmion.”

  What was the obsession with the disease? “You can’t catch it from me,” he said as patiently as he could.

  “How can you be so sure?” She got up, pressing as hand to her stomach, as if she was about to throw up. “You caught it.”

  “I’ve had these marks since I was little.”

  “You’re lying.” Now she glared at him, nostrils flaring. “You take me for a fool? Nobody can survive that.”

  “And yet, here I am.”

  She took another step back, her hands balling into fists. “You mock me.”

  Anger was seeping through the cracks of his defenses, burning hot. He forced a cold smile on his face, and it stretched the skin over his cheekbones until it hurt. “Run away then. Maybe it’s not too damn late to save yourself.”

  “Do you think this is funny? Gods.” Her eyes narrowed. “Hera never said anything about this.”

  “Tough,” he said, letting the fake smile drop. He’d thought he was used to such reactions, but for some reason hers stung. “And you’re right, it isn’t funny.”

  “You’re insufferable,” she said and turned away with a huff.

  He was? He blinked at that as she left the room, the door slamming behind her. A weight settled on his chest and he stared at the opposite wall, breathing hard.

  Kalaes had stopped shaking at least. He would wake up soon. He had to. Then everything would be all right.

  Elei bent his head. He had to believe it or go mad.

  Chapter Eight

  Hera came back what seemed like hours later. Bright red spots marked her cheekbones from the cold outside, and a whiff of frost blew through the door. It looked like winter was finally settling in.

  She nodded absently at Elei. “We brought food.”

  The smell of stew hit his nostrils — cabbage and mushrooms, maybe some fish — but above all he smelled her scent of flowers, and in his mind he saw torn flesh and death. His pulse quickened, and he almost tasted the sweet, metallic tang of blood on his tongue.

  Her blood.

  He shook his head to dispel the image, to dislodge the imaginary taste from his mouth.

  A woman entered, short and wiry with a shock of blond hair on her head and small, pale eyes. He focused on her, trying to get rid of the images. I can control this. She held a pot which Hera turned to take, stacked with bowls. Behind her came a man carrying a bottle of water. He was tall and muscular, the same man, Elei realized, who’d taken Kalaes from Hera outside the hospital and carried him here. The shape of his round face, his pale colors, marked him as a brother or cousin of the woman.

  “Greetings,” he said in a rumbling voice. He smiled, a wide, guileless expression. “Mind if we join you?”

  Elei shifted on the chair, stretching his numb legs. Another crisp draft blew through the open door and he shuddered so hard he thought his bones might come loose from their joints.

  “The boy’s cold,” said the man, pulling the other chair and settling down next to Elei. He placed the bottle on the floor. “Don’t we have another blanket, Leisa? The shirt he’s wearing is paper-thin.”

  The woman, Leisa, scratched her cheek. “Well, there’s your jacket,” she said and went off, presumably to fetch it.

  Elei looked away and dipped his head in thanks when Leisa finally came back and draped a leather jacket over his shoulders. He huddled in it with a sigh, muscles slowly unclenching. He hadn’t realized how hard he’d been shivering.

  Hera stared at him, not saying anything, but when he caught her gaze, she turned away quickly. He wondered where Alendra was, but supposed she was keeping a lookout for any trouble.

  “Are we leaving, then?” he asked.

  Hera nodded. “The aircar has not been discovered, so we can still use it.”

&n
bsp; The man elbowed him lightly, and Elei kept a gasp between his teeth as wounds protested. “I’m Kein. I heard you’re the one that brought down half the Gultur population, huh?”

  “Half?” That was news to him, and a glance showed him Hera’s raised eyebrows. She looked as surprised as he felt at this piece of news.

  “That’s what the latest intel from HQ said. The Gultur capital is boiling with trouble.” Kein shrugged. He poured stew into a bowl, then passed it to Elei. “Here, kid, eat up. It’s good.”

  Elei took it, grateful for the warmth trickling into his numb fingers. “What else did they say?”

  “It’s total chaos,” Leisa said, serving herself a bowl and sitting cross-legged next to Hera. “Apparently orders don’t come from Bone Tower anymore, and the ones from Dakru City are often contradictory.”

  Chaos. “Is there a way to take advantage of this?” Elei asked. “To destroy the Gultur?”

  Kein frowned. “We’re trying to organize our forces. We’re targeting important military compounds to weaken them further. I can’t tell you more, kid.”

  “Will that be enough?” Hera muttered, not sounding convinced, and Kein shrugged.

  “And the blockades? The hold up at the hospital?” Elei’s hands shook and he lowered the bowl. “Who’s doing that?”

  “That,” Hera spat the words out, “appears to have been a group acting on their own initiative.”

  They ate in quiet. Although he knew he needed to eat, Elei found himself forcing the stew down his throat, vaguely nauseous and craving something sweet with stomach-clenching force. It didn’t help that Hera’s sugary scent filled his nostrils.

  He ate as much as he could before his stomach threatened to rebel, then he distracted himself by watching the others eat and stealing glances at Kalaes’ still form. Kein was nice, Leisa too, and Hera was cool, although she was acting more like her usual self — aloof and distracted. But Kalaes was... his protector. His guardian. He swallowed past a lump in his throat. Please wake up.

  The others began gathering the bowls and getting to their feet. Looked like lunch was over.

  “Hey, kid.” Kein clapped him on the back, smiling. “Nice meeting you. Take care.”

  “Your jacket.” Elei started to shrug it off, already missing its warmth.

  “Keep it. You need it, you’re fairly blue with cold. It’s a gift,” Kein said, winked and was gone.

  Before he could think an answer to that, Leisa gave him a warm smile and they left, leaving him with Hera.

  She rose too, with slow motions, and tucked her hair behind her ears. Her stern expression gave her an older air. “Those street kids of yours are something.”

  The kids. He perked up. “You met with them? Are they okay?”

  “They were waiting nearby to ask about you. It appears they followed us when we first came here.” Her voice was neutral, so he couldn’t tell if she was amused or annoyed. “They said they’d come by and see you before we go. In fact...” She cocked her head to the side and glanced at the door, as if listening to something.

  A childish voice rang from the other room and next thing he knew, the door flew open and a small whirlwind of energy slammed into him.

  “Afia?” he gasped as bony hands grabbed his arms and tugged. Her blue eyes were wide and a grin stretched her mouth. Then images from his dream assaulted him, her innocent expression as she shot him, and he gulped.

  “You made it!” She released him and hopped from one bare foot to another, her dark locks bouncing. “It worked!”

  Her enthusiasm made him smile. “Yes. Thanks to your help.”

  Jek walked in, warily glancing around under his blond bangs, taking stock of the place. “Hey, man.” He nodded at Elei. Oddly, he held a long, black stick that seemed to be made of hard nepheline with an ornate handle on top.

  “Hey, Jek.” Elei relaxed, glad to see them alive and well. He nodded at the stick. “What’s that for?”

  “This?” Jek looked down at it as if he hadn’t noticed it before. “It’s for you, old man.”

  “You limped when we met you,” Afia cut in before he could ask. “We looked for a stick for you.”

  Jek passed it over and Elei curled his fingers around it.

  “It’s a walking cane?” He looked up into Jek’s clear gaze. “Did you steal it?”

  “It belonged to a rich old lady,” Jek said with a small shrug. “I’m sure she can afford another, fe.”

  Elei’s lips twitched. “I have an old lady’s stick?”

  Afia giggled.

  “The other kids, are they okay?” Elei leaned the stick against his chair and straightened with a grimace as stitches pulled and blood seeped down his thigh.

  Afia scowled. “You’re hurt,” she said accusingly and put her hands on her slim hips. “More hurt than before. How could you?”

  Elei frowned.

  Jek snorted. “Just tell her you won’t do it again.”

  “Damn well you won’t.” Afia managed to look intimidating despite her small stature. “If anything happened to you, how would you pay us back?”

  “Afia.” Jek rolled his eyes.

  Gods, he’d forgotten about the payment. Elei licked dry lips. He hadn’t really thought he’d survive breaking in and out of the hospital to fulfill his end of the bargain, but here he was. “About that payment—”

  “What payment?” Hera snapped, and Elei winced. He’d forgotten she still stood there.

  “For our help,” Afia said, a satisfied smile splitting her grimy little face.

  “I see,” Hera said in icy tones, folded her arms under her breasts and lifted an eyebrow at him.

  “I had no choice, okay?” He avoided Afia’s gaze. “I was running out of time and she said they’d help me and I—”

  “You promised.” Afia tapped a small foot against the concrete floor.

  “Do you need food?” Hera looked from Afia to Jek and back. “I’ll talk to Kein. We’ll arrange something.”

  Afia’s smile grew brighter, revealing yellow teeth and red gums. “Thank you.” She threw her skinny arms around Elei, and before he could snap out of his daze and hug her back, she pulled away and turned serious again. “Food is good, but that wasn’t the payment I meant.”

  “Then what?”

  “You’re one of us, grew up in the streets like us. You came to help us.” He opened his mouth to tell her she was wrong, that he couldn’t help them, but she pressed on, eyes shining. “You did a lot, but it’s not enough. Their system’s collapsing, but they’re still strong.”

  “Afia!” Jek grabbed her arm, but she shook it off.

  “Once you make up your mind,” she went on, her cheeks reddening, “you’ll need an army.”

  Elei choked, glanced sideways at Hera who observed them, face impassive, that damned brow still arched. “I will?”

  “Yes.” She stared right into his eyes, sure of herself, unflinching. “We’ll help you, Elei; we’ll be your army, your eyes and ears. Just promise.”

  “Promise what?”

  “That you’ll help us back. When you finish what you have to do, when you destroy the Gultur and bring down this government. When you find what you’re looking for, then make sure there’re no children living on the street, hungry and cold, alone without a family. Promise. Promise me.”

  He thought about it. What would he have done if Albi hadn’t found him, if the monks hadn’t taken him in when she died? If Pelia hadn’t brought him to her home, if Kalaes hadn’t opened his door? The Gultur cared nothing about the orphans. Someone had to look after them. “I promise.”

  “Elei.” Hera groaned. “What are you doing? Why are you lying to them?”

  “Are you lying to me?” Afia asked in a small voice and caught his hand.

  “I promise to try and help you.” Elei hoped she could understand. “But I’m no hero. I can’t fight all the Gultur on my own.”

  “You can. You went into the hospital alone. You can do—”

  “
Afia, please.” Jek’s face was red now, too. “Stop with these strange ideas. He got hurt entering the hospital. Do you want him to get killed? And for what?”

  Hera made a strange noise, like a moan, and Elei turned to her. Her expression was dark.

  All this, he realized with a start, was his fault. He’d tried so hard to convince Afia that he was some sort of superhuman being, to get Jek to help him break into the hospital, and now the girl thought he could really do anything.

  “I dream about it every night,” Afia whispered, not releasing Elei, not pulling her gaze away. “You do too, don’t you? You dream of this. Of the key to free us all.”

  “I don’t...” He frowned, trying to remember his dreams. “The key?” That rang all sorts of bells. He’d actually dreamed about something like that, hadn’t he?

  “You have all these abilities. You can do so much.”

  “Come on, Afia. They promised us food. That’s good enough. We didn’t expect any payment and you know it.” Jek grabbed her arm, but she resisted still.

  “When you see it all clearly and you know what to do…” She let go of his hand. “Contact them, wherever you are. Tell them, Tefnut says we’re all human.”

  Hera muttered a curse, and her face blanched. Why did she look so shocked?

  “Tefnut?” He shook his head, not understanding. “Tell whom? The kids?”

  “Yes,” she said and Jek pulled her away, his face still bright red. She released Elei’s shirt. “And come back. Don’t you dare die out there. Come back here. We need you.”

  Elei nodded, not knowing how to fulfill his promise, how to finally destroy the Gultur and bring peace. He watched them go, whispers from dreams in his head, and wondered if he’d ever have as much faith in himself as Afia did.

  ***

  The two kids walked to the entrance hall, holding hands, a blond and a dark head bent together. The boy was scolding Afia for the things she’d said, for being a nuisance.

  Hera watched them, thinking. The girl knew much more than she was supposed to know for a child her age. Was there a revolt brewing among the street kids?