Elei's Chronicles (Books 1-3)

by Chrystalla Thoma

  Or how about not getting shot at for a change?

  Shaking his head, he pulled his stinky, stained pants back on, foregoing the shirt until he dried some more, and opened the door to return to the bedroom, with a mental reminder to ask Hera where to find clean clothes. His bed sounded fantastic right now. It was barely evening, but he couldn’t keep his eyes open any longer. He only hoped he could lay aside all thoughts of Rex and rest. Still rubbing his head with the towel, he stepped out.

  And bumped into someone.

  “Ow, watch where you’re going.” Blond hair, wide golden eyes, a soft mouth twisted in a grimace.

  Alendra. Just his luck. “I was, dammit. You fell on me.” His mouth was on autopilot now. “Disinfectant’s in the bathroom, I guess you’ll need it.”

  “I didn’t fall on you!” Alendra frowned. “You opened the door not even looking—”

  “I didn’t do it on purpose, I was just...” Why was he even trying to explain? He snapped his rebellious mouth shut and stepped aside to let her pass. “Forget it.”

  “I wish it was that simple,” she said, brushing past him and going into the bathroom. Her scent of sea breeze filled his nostrils, so cool, and sent his heart pounding.

  Not forgiven, then. Not that he expected to be. He stared after her, exhausted. “Yeah, me too.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Returning to the bedroom, he found Kalaes already in bed, a lump under the covers. His mop of dark hair spread on the white pillow like spilled ink, his face a pale oval barely visible underneath.

  “Hey,” he mumbled when Elei walked in, and he shifted, making the bed creak. “Good shower?”

  Elei shrugged. He threw the towel on the floor, next to Kalaes’, and closed the door.

  “The girls have turned in already,” Kalaes said and lifted his head to look at Elei.

  Elei didn’t bother correcting him. His issues with Alendra — or her issues with him — were not Kalaes’ concern. He stared down at his shirt — one sleeve scorched and ripped to shreds where bullets and shrapnel had hit him, the front and back stained brown with blood. He debated wearing it to sleep, then decided against it and laid it on the small table before climbing into bed.

  “Are you all right, fe?” Kalaes sat in his bed, fingering the medallion hanging from his neck. He was bare-chested too and Elei couldn’t help but stare at the bruises again. Kalaes looked down at them too, lips twisting. “I think I must’ve busted a rib or two. Breathing hurts.”

  Elei looked away, guilt an ever-present weight on his shoulders. “My fault.”

  “No, it wasn’t.”

  Dammit, how couldn’t it be? “You were there because of me, they hurt you to get to me, you—”

  “You didn’t choose all this mess, fe. Don’t blame yourself.”

  Gods, he wanted to believe that. “But you lost everything. I owe you—”

  “Screw this. This isn’t about owing anything.” Kalaes drew a shuddering breath. “You know that.”

  Elei frowned and pulled back the covers. He burrowed into the bed, shivering against the cold sheets. Then what was it about? Not sure he wanted to know the answer, afraid to hope, he laid his head back on the pillow and a sigh escaped his lips. His eyelids were heavy. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a good night’s sleep. His body floated, not connected to gravity anymore, and images flashed before his eyes — Pelia’s smile, Albi’s wrinkled face, blood, more blood.

  “You wanted to know,” Kalaes said and Elei jerked, his eyes flying open. He blinked at the soft darkness until his vision adjusted. His racing heart made colors jump on the ceiling, chasing any living form, spiders and fungi, outlining them in silver.

  “...What?”

  Kalaes made a small harrumphing sound from the other bed. “You asked me to tell you. About me. About my past.”

  “What? No.” Elei tried to focus, his mind still sluggish with sleep. “I just said...” What had he said? He pulled on the fragments of memory, trying to remember. Kalaes had accused him of not knowing anything about him, and then... “You said I was better off not knowing.”

  “You know what, that’s true.” Kalaes was looking at the wall and not at him. “Forget it.”

  Elei sat up in bed, wide awake now. Shit. “Kalaes...”

  But Kalaes lay down again, turning his back. A tremor went through his body but he said nothing else.

  Dammit. He’d screwed up. Kalaes had been trying to talk with him. How could he have guessed? The Kalaes he’d known didn’t need an invitation to spill his guts.

  Feeling like a prick, Elei lay back down, curled on his side and drew the covers up to his chin, his jaw clenched and teeth grinding. Hurting Kalaes was the last thing he’d wanted. Damn his big mouth. He stared at the rigid line of Kalaes’ back and didn’t know what to do.

  He’d never be able to sleep now. He’d never... He just couldn’t...

  Breeze blew from the sea, fresh and cool against his face. He stood on a deserted pier. A familiar one. Pier Heron, on the west coast of Ost. He liked walking here. It wasn’t far from the monastery factory. Waves rolled on the sea, crashing on the pier.

  “Are you coming?” Afia said, reaching up for his hand, smiling. Jek stalked toward him, waving, and caught Elei’s other hand.

  Elei didn’t resist when the two kids tugged him toward the pier. Someone sat there, on a concrete bench by the water. The breeze picked up and whipped dark hair that Elei knew would be gray at the temples and the wide sleeves of a white blouse he knew would be stained with blood.

  Pelia didn’t turn to look at them as they approached. Her profile was graceful and he stopped just to look at it. Afia halted and gave him a small shove. Jek stopped too, releasing him. They nodded toward Pelia.

  So Elei walked toward her alone, fine spray from the crashing waves tickling his face. His feet were bare but not cold. The spray drenched him but only his hair got wet.

  “You came,” Pelia said and patted the bench next to her. “Sit.”

  He did, looking out at the heaving sea. “Of course I came.”

  “I thought you’d forgotten.” She sighed. “I told you about it so long ago.”

  Elei felt he knew what she was talking about but couldn’t name it. “Soon after you hired me.”

  “Yes. The third month, when I knew. I told you about the medallion.”

  He tried to remember. “You gave it away for safekeeping.”

  “You do remember.” She gave him a fond smile. There were drops of blood on her cheek. “I gave it to someone I trust. You must read it.”

  “Read the medallion.” Of course. He nodded. “I will.”

  “And unlock it.”

  “The number?”

  “Your birthday, yes.” She sighed. “You must bring the Gultur down, son. I have faith in you.”

  “Faith.” He heard harsh panting and turned toward the children. Why was Jek panting like that? “Jek?”

  Jek stumbled toward him, reaching out, his mouth stretched wide. Then he cried out, a choked sound.

  Elei jolted upright, his eyes flying open, his pulse thundering in his ears. The boy, the pier, the sea, all turned transparent like glass, walls and furniture showing through. Then the afterimages swirled like smoke and faded. A room. Not the pier. Not Pelia, Afia or Jek. Then...

  Someone cried out again, a sound of abject terror, and Elei’s whole body jerked. Kalaes.

  On the other bed, the older boy arched off the mattress, spine bent awkwardly back, tendons corded in his neck. His hands were fisted in the covers. His dark hair, still wet, spilled on the white pillowcase.

  “Kalaes.” The gods knew what nightmare held him so rigid, straining as if against someone’s chokehold. “Kal!”

  Kalaes’ eyes moved rapidly under his lids. His lips peeled back and another cry tore from his mouth, distorted and desperate.

  The door opened and Hera peeked inside. “Kalaes?”

  “I got it. It’s okay.” Elei threw back his cover
s and swung his legs over the side as the door closed. Taking a deep breath, he got up. His knee buckled, the muscles stiff from not moving, but he managed to straighten. Blood rushing in his ears, he limped over to Kalaes’ bed.

  Kalaes writhed, too entangled in the covers to free himself. His arms trembled, and his fingers were caught in the sheets, white- knuckled. His teeth were bared, his eyes scrunched shut, his features locked in a grimace. He whimpered.

  Do something. Elei touched Kalaes’ arm. “Hey.”

  Kalaes jerked and his hand shot out. Elei caught the ice-cold fingers before they hit him. “Kalaes. Wake up.” Fear curled around his spine. “Hey, wake up!”

  “Zag!” Kalaes mumbled. “Please.”

  “It’s all right.” Elei squeezed the icy fingers once. “It’s just a dream.”

  A tremor went through Kalaes. He wasn’t free of the nightmare yet.

  “It’s okay.” Elei’s trembling legs finally gave out and he sank heavily on the creaking mattress. “Everything’s okay.”

  Kalaes shivered again, his breathing still too fast, his skin too cold. His eyes opened, filled with bleak despair. He rolled them toward Elei. “Zag?”

  The vise around Elei’s heart squeezed. “Just Elei.”

  Kalaes swallowed hard and looked up at the ceiling. Then, with a groan, he twisted around, turning his back to Elei.

  Elei stiffened, prepared to get up, obviously dismissed. But something kept him from leaving yet — something in Kalaes’ reaction, his stiff posture, the way he curled into himself.

  Then he heard Kalaes’ breath hitch, a tiny, desperate sob, quickly stifled against the pillow.

  Elei shivered. He reached down clumsily, rested his hand on Kalaes’ shoulder. “I’m sure Zag’s all right,” he said. Damned Gultur. “It was all a dream, nothing more. You’ll find him again, I promise. I’ll make sure you return to your family.”

  Kalaes shuddered.

  “It was just a nightmare,” Elei went on. “You can get through this. You can beat this.” He faltered, not sure he was helping. When Kalaes said nothing, he pushed back to his feet and stood still for a moment, looking down at the tousled head on the pillow, thinking he heard Kalaes’ breathing even out.

  He turned and limped back to his own bed. He’d already climbed back under the covers, when Kalaes said, so softly Elei wasn’t sure he’d heard it:

  “Bad things do happen. And some dreams are real.”

  Elei held his breath, waiting for something more, some explanation, but the silence settled around them like dust, and at last he lay back down to sleep.

  ***

  Morning came all too soon, cold light spilling down in silvery sheets from the high-set windows. Elei rubbed his blurry eyes and turned on his side, wincing as stiff muscles and healing wounds protested. Kalaes’ bed was empty, the covers a jumbled mess.

  Scrubbing a hand over his face and through his hair, Elei got up, pulled on his blood-stiffened shirt and tried to straighten the wrinkles, then gave up. Strange smells wafted from the kitchen and he heard voices. He limped inside and found Kalaes and Alendra at the table, eating blue bread and seal ham, discussing the merits of dry dakron engines. Alendra spared him a brief glance but her face showed nothing. She acted for all the world like she’d never met him in her life.

  Kalaes was waving a chunk of bread as he chattered about the best isolation materials and the purest dakron types, his eyes bright, and Elei stared, the images of the previous night superimposing themselves — Kalaes’ trembling shoulders, his bleak gaze.

  Cat entered and rubbed itself on the wall, mewing. It stayed there, gazing at Elei, blue eyes occasionally flicking to Hera.

  She stood by the stove, mixing something in a pot. Hera cooking? Elei blinked. She was pouring boiling water over something that gave off a pungent scent, bitter and acrid.

  “What is this stuff?” He wandered closer, eyed the pot suspiciously. He sniffed and coughed, his throat burning. “Something to clean the aircar engine with?”

  She folded her arms across her chest and lifted an eyebrow. “Very funny.” She nodded at the steaming pot. “It’s for you.”

  “For me, huh?” He wondered if Regina was out for his blood again. “Smells...deadly.”

  “In fact, it’s for Rex.”

  His gaze snapped up to hers. “What will it do?”

  “Weaken it.”

  “Are you sure?” Sure it won’t kill me?

  “It will not harm you. Well, not much.”

  Rex screeched inside his head. “Well, that’s reassuring.” He stared into the pot, at black specks floating in the steaming liquid, and swallowed hard. “What is it?”

  “Yarwood thistle and black tinga fungus.”

  “How do you know it’ll work? Does cronion react to them?”

  “No.” She pushed the pot toward him. “But these contain acids that benefit telmion, and telmion can weaken Rex.” She shrugged.

  Elei stared into the muddy liquid. He’d take any help he could to control Rex. “You said it won’t harm me... much?” Cold sweat rolled down his back.

  “I do not think so. Drink up.”

  “You don’t think so.” He sighed, curled a hand around the pot, let the warmth seep into his fingers. “Okay.”

  “What’s that, fe?” Kalaes called out from the table, a grin in his voice. “I thought you’d have sworn off alcohol by now.”

  “Medicine.” Elei toasted Hera, his heart booming with apprehension. At least, if this concoction slowed down Rex, weakened its influence, maybe he wouldn’t tear Hera’s throat out. He’d have more control over his body. It wasn’t much of a body, but it was his.

  “Wait!” From the corner of his eye he saw Kalaes push back his chair and lurch to his feet, the medallion hanging from his neck glinting silver. “What’s that?”

  Elei gulped down the hot liquid, bitterness on the back of his tongue, scalding heat down his throat, down his belly. He banged the pot down on the counter.

  “Elei.” Kalaes stopped a few feet away, indecision plain on his face. “You okay?”

  “Yeah.” Then his stomach cramped and he bent over, gasping, gripping the counter edge. “Not sure.” Maybe Hera was trying to kill him.

  “Shit.” Kalaes lunged forward, grabbed his arm and dragged him to a seat, planted him there. “What medicine are you talking about, what was that thing you drank? Hera.” He spun around, hands fisting at his sides. “What in the five hells did you give him?”

  “Something to strengthen telmion,” Hera said evenly. “We’ve tried it before, at the hospital. It seemed to work then.”

  “This same medicine?”

  “No. I do not have access to a lab here, obviously. I made do with what was available.”

  “What was available?” Kalaes’ voice rose, incredulous.

  “There you go again, repeating what I say.”

  Elei looked up at them as they faced each other, scowling, their arms folded across their chests. Another cramp squeezed his stomach and he swallowed bile. His head throbbed, the dull ache rising in intensity.

  “I suggested we weaken Rex, fe, not kill Elei,” Kalaes spat each word out like a broken tooth.

  “I do not plan on killing him,” Hera’s voice rose.

  Whether it had been her intention or not, his body was trying to turn itself inside out. Nausea and pain squeezed his middle. If it wasn’t the potion, then it was telmion’s poison, and although he was quite sure Rex could keep it in check, the reaction wasn’t reassuring. He’d almost died from telmion twice so far. Hopefully, the third time’s charm wouldn’t work.

  Out of the corner of his eye he caught Alendra’s horrified face and he winced. He should just go to bed. Lying down sounded great, but he refused to move away because of her, and besides, he wasn’t sure he could right now. Another spasm squeezed his stomach and he hoped he wasn’t about to throw up.

  “Hey.” Kalaes sat on his haunches next to him. “You look green. Need a bucket, or maybe
go to the bathroom?”

  “Oh, gods.” It was Alendra’s voice, low and strained. “You’ll die.”

  Elei looked at her in shock, dimly wondering if she was right. Her eyes were very bright, as if she was about to cry. She smelled of fear, sour and sharp, and something else he couldn’t define.

  “What’s your problem, Ale?” Kalaes snarled, and Elei blinked, caught by surprise at his anger. “He’s not going to die, dammit, this is supposed to help him.”

  “But you don’t really know.” Alendra’s face was paling. Why was she so frightened? “You’re only assuming things.”

  “Hera is a parasitologist,” Kalaes said coldly. “She knows about such things.”

  Two red spots bloomed on Alendra’s cheeks. She stood up, pushing her chair back with a screech, and hurried out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

  Hera and Kalaes exchanged an eyebrow-raised look.

  “What’s up with her?” Kalaes muttered.

  “I think it’s because of the Asine disaster,” Hera muttered.

  “Tell me about it,” Elei whispered, wrapping both arms around himself. He wanted to understand Alendra, understand her fear. “Please, Hera. I need to know.”

  Hera gave him an amused look. “You like her, is that not so, boy?”

  Warmth crept up his throat, his cheeks. “Just tell me.”

  “Fine. I’d rather she talked about it, but maybe she is not ready.” Hera wrapped her hands around her cup of water and her gaze was somber. “It was a plague of telmion. Not a few isolated cases, but a plague, spreading like a fire.” She shrugged, stared into her glass. “We could not believe how fast it propagated, how fast it killed. The snakeskin expanded so quickly on their bodies you could see it covering them, reaching their faces, clogging their mouths and noses. They suffocated, if they did not choke on their own vomit.”

  Elei closed his eyes briefly.

  “Telmion wiped out Asine, a middle-sized town in the west of Dakru. We think, perhaps, the meat sold at the central market or the water carried cysts of the parasite. Barely any mortal survived.”