Elei's Chronicles (Books 1-3)

by Chrystalla Thoma

  He glanced at the doors they were passing. At the end of the corridor, they’d see the gate to the Temple Court, they’d pass it and turn left, bypass the gate leading up to the Echoes’ apartments, and all the way to the end. Then—

  “Where are you heading?” The grating female voice startled him to a halt.

  “He’s to scrub floors in the Echoes’ apartments,” Alendra said, managing to sound disdainful and bored at the same time.

  “You cannot go up. Are you new here?”

  Elei saw her from the corner of his eye, a beautiful Gultur, eyes dark as night, hair a golden brown.

  “Yes,” Alendra said in a neutral voice. “Started working here about a week ago.”

  “Then you should have paid better attention, mortal.” The Gultur lifted her chin. “Maturation time is soon. It hits some of the Echoes hard. They go quite mad sometimes, killing any mortal they see.”

  He heard a barely audible gasp from Alendra, and he knew she’d thought the same as he had: would that happen to Hera?

  Hera and Kalaes. They had to hurry.

  Alendra seemed to be thinking the same, because she bowed to the Gultur. “Then he’ll scrub the floors of the Offices and the Library instead, if that’s all right.”

  The Gultur made a non-commitant grunt and nodded.

  Alendra gestured for him to follow. He did, meekly staring at the floor.

  The Temple Court gate loomed like a black mouth ahead. Guards dressed in what had to be ceremonial garb stood on either side — long, metallic tunics down to their knees, red pants, their hair caught on top of their heads in complex loops with silvery rings. That reminded Elei of Kalaes’ braids, and he reached up to pat his pocket where they rested.

  They passed the crimson gate leading up to the Echoes’ rooms, staring straight ahead and hoping the previous guard hadn’t communicated with the others.

  The Offices came up next, rows and rows of desks with data processors, Gultur bent over the screens, typing and reading. Elei gaped, ignoring the stabs of pain Rex kept sending through his body. He’d never seen so many processors at once. Then they passed by the library and he dared peek inside. So many scrolls and bound books in glass cases.

  Alendra strode on faster now, and he followed suit. Two more cats joined them, padding silently along the wall, a gray and a white one with black feet, both blue-eyed.

  He hurried on, trying to empty his mind of fear, so that Rex wouldn’t try to stop him again. But thoughts kept rising to the surface, carrying in their core anger and foreboding and unease. So, instead, he thought of Pelia, of his dreams and of the medallion with the word ‘below’ written on the flip side, thought of Jek and Afia and their trust in him, of everything that brought them to this place, at this moment.

  Many people had put their trust in him. He couldn’t fail them.

  Alendra slowed and he looked up. There was the door they had to go through, the gate to the vault with the safety boxes. Nothing remarkable singled it out, only that it was the third in line after the gate to the Central Court, an ornate, gilded affair flanked by four visored guards whose icy stares raised goose bumps on Elei’s flesh.

  And now this unassuming door, black and unadorned, without a sign or a guard, possibly hiding a great secret.

  Or nothing.

  Alendra approached the metal code pad and raised her hand to it, pursing her lips.

  He stood guard at her side, checking the corridor, taking deep breaths to calm Rex. Nobody would expect them to walk right into Dakru City, into the Gultur Palace. That’d be pure madness.

  It is pure madness. If Pelia’s code didn’t work, alarms would go off, guards would come running and they’d be dead.

  He forced the fear down.

  Alendra brushed her fingertips over tiny indentations, muttering something under her breath — cursing or trying to remember the long code Hera gave them. Left and right, the corridor appeared empty, but for how long? His pulse was accelerating again, the pain rushing up in a wave to pull him under.

  With one stride he reached Alendra, shoved her aside and raised his hand over the keypad.

  Alendra grabbed his shoulder. “Hey, what—”

  The rest of her words were swallowed in the tide of pain that followed. He slapped a hand over his mouth to muffle a gasp and leaned against the door.

  Do it. Now. The longer he wasn’t in immediate danger, Rex would insist on trying to send him running away.

  He pushed back, took a deep breath. The numbers and letters flashed in his memory, laid out perfectly, adrenaline firing up his brain like an aircar engine. His hand shook. He curled his fingers into a fist until his nails bit into his palm.

  Then he reached up again and brushed them over the pad, keying in the code.

  The door hissed open into a deeper darkness.

  ***

  “I can’t see a thing,” Alendra whispered as he pulled her inside and closed the door behind them.

  Even he could barely see. The outline of the door glimmered in silver. Alendra’s form was yellow and blue, a faint red over her heart. Then his vision sharpened, and he saw the darkening bruise on her cheek, the doubt in her golden eyes.

  He turned around and stopped. They weren’t inside the vault yet. His stomach sank as he took in the huge, round door, made of solid metal.

  “Do we have another code?”

  “Another? What for?” She fumbled forward, bumping into him and yelping.

  “It’s just me.” He grabbed her arm and steadied her. “There’s another door.”

  “Shit.”

  His feelings exactly. “Did Hera say if she’s ever been inside here?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  Frigging hells. He ran his fingers over the polished surface. In its center was another keypad. “Gods damn it.” He smashed his fist on the door. All this pain and worry, and putting everyone in danger, to stop here. “We don’t have another code.”

  “Only the one for the safety box.”

  “Yeah.” Only that one, engraved on his Rasmus. He took a sharp breath. Pelia would have thought of this. No way she would have sent them here only to be trapped between the two doors. Which meant... “Give me my gun.”

  Alendra fumbled at her belt and he caught it, tracing the numbers on the barrel. “What if this is the combination?”

  “I thought Hera said that was for the box.”

  “Me too, but what if it’s not?”

  “Then we don’t have a code for the box.”

  “One thing at a time. I’ll try this.”

  “And if it’s not this one?”

  He grinned, a savage pull of the lips, even though he knew she couldn’t see him. “Then we’re really screwed.”

  Before Rex flared again, before his pulse went into overdrive, he passed the code from the gun to the pad, pressing the stiff keys. Something clicked inside, then something else, and wheels turned.

  He pushed. The door opened.

  The vault arched over them — the cupola. Peepholes in the domed roof allowed rays of light to pierce the gloom, criss-crossing space like a golden spiderweb. The lockboxes were beetle-wing black, matte and absorbing all light, inset in the walls of the vault.

  “Gods below.” Alendra turned in a circle, the rays catching on her pale hair and refracting, so that her face glowed like the sun. Breathless, he watched her until she spoke again. “How are we going to find the right box?”

  “Hecate.” He looked up and around at all the boxes. They were numbered, but didn’t bear names. “Wasn’t there a code number Hera mentioned?”

  “Yes.” Alendra frowned, tapped a finger against her lips. “Hundred and fifty?”

  He grinned again. “Hundred and fifty three.”

  He set about following the numbers, Alendra checking the other side. The numbers drew them deeper into the vault, where silver dust danced on the captive rays and swirled in tiny eddies. Excitement pounded in his veins when he finally saw the number they sought, emboss
ed in metal. He reached up, touched it. Next to it was the now familiar keypad.

  The code. He closed his eyes, pooling everything he knew, the clues Pelia had left, the information Hera had shared. “The code is a series of numbers,” he whispered to himself, to hear the words in case they made better sense that way, “but there is sometimes a word before the numbers. Hera said so.”

  “What word?”

  “No idea.” He saw again the medallion, the hymn to Hecate, the names of the Seven Islands, then the word on the back. Below. “Below.”

  “What?”

  Could it be that easy? He licked his lips, suddenly parched with thirst. “You don’t think the alarm will go off if I get this wrong, right?”

  She shrugged, her face pale. “Maybe you get three tries?”

  He certainly hoped so. His pulse quickened, roaring like an enraged animal in his ears. “Stop it.”

  “What did I do?” Alendra asked, her voice rising.

  “Not you. Shit.” Focus.

  “Hey.” Her soft voice from his side — very close to his ear — cut his breath and wrenched his gaze to her face. “What are you going to do?”

  The truth? Get us all killed. “I have an idea.”

  He entered the word, then the numbers, fast, before he pissed himself.

  Alendra caught his arm, her breath hissing out. A red light blinked on the keypad and something in the walls whirred.

  Wrong.

  Hells. Was there another clue that he’d missed?

  “One word to put before the numbers. That’s what Hera said.” He barely stopped himself from banging his head against the box. “It’s not the one I thought. Any suggestions?”

  Alendra bit her lip, her nostrils flaring, her eyes wide with fear. “How should I know? What about her name?”

  “Hecate?” It was worth a try. He had nothing else to go on.

  Hells, he hoped the others were still alive. Rex pounded the inside of his skull, so hard he thought it would crack. His fingers shook so much now he had to stop and breathe in, breathe out.

  “Let me do it,” Alendra said.

  “No, I’m all right.” He typed in the name, then the numbers, glancing from his Rasmus to the keypad.

  The red light blinked again and the same whirring noise came from the walls.

  Alendra’s breath came in gasps, and his own lungs felt too small in his chest.

  “This isn’t working,” she whispered, her voice thready. “We should get out while we can.”

  He knew what she meant. If the third try failed too, then the alarm would go off and they’d be dead.

  “Go.” He shoved her gently toward the door. “Now, before I try again. Before they know. Find Hera and Kalaes, get back into the tunnels and leave while there’s still time.”

  She resisted. “No. Not going without you.”

  “Why the hells not? Nobody will blame you.”

  She shook her head stubbornly, her ponytail swishing through the air, splintering the light. A small smile flitted on her lips. “No. Kalaes would probably flay me alive. Better die here.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes.”

  His lips curled in a grin, riding high on adrenaline, his heart pumping furiously. What other word could he try? ‘Below’. He saw again the medallion, the word and the mermaid underneath. Below the word.

  A mermaid. Siren, wasn’t that the word Hera had whispered?

  His hand hovered over the keypad. It was such a wild guess he hesitated. But, hells, he’d run out of ideas and time, and fear curled in his stomach.

  A mistake. Rex pounced, grabbing his head in steel claws, jamming fiery blades down his chest, his legs. His hiss sounded too loud in the empty vault.

  “Elei—”

  “You enter it.” His hands shook and he feared making a mistake. If this was a weaker Rex, he didn’t want to think what the parasite was like in full power. “Here.” He pushed his gun into her hands. “The word. It’s siren.”

  Silent, she entered the code, her fingers whispering on the symbols. Her soft cry of surprise told him he’d been right.

  The box clicked open, the sound multiplying. She pulled something out; it rasped as she dragged it.

  “What is it?”

  An ominous rumbling went through the walls. That couldn’t be good.

  “A small box,” she said. “I got it. Let’s go.”

  No arguments. She grabbed his hand and he let her, the pain fading now they’d avoided the alarm sounding.

  Or had they?

  They ran out of the round vault door, slammed it shut. Opening the plain black door, they bolted into the corridor.

  A Gultur squad was running toward them, coming from their right, faces hard, ponytails swinging, guns held at the ready.

  There went the chance to get out without bloodshed.

  “Surrender!” called the Gultur heading the others and aimed. “On your knees!”

  Immediate danger. At last. Rex lit the world in colors, and the pain left Elei so fast his knees went weak.

  But there wasn’t enough time to see if Rex could stop bullets. “Okay. Don’t shoot.”

  He nodded to Alendra and they dropped to their knees. He barely felt the impact, everything around him flashing with possibilities.

  Now what? There were ten Gultur, armed to the teeth, closing in. Alendra held the box on her lap. He leaned sideways, slipped an arm around her as if hugging her, and drew out his Rasmus. Holding it loosely behind his back, he waited.

  Rex marked for him the heads and chests of the Gultur with splashes of red. But how to stop them from shooting and hitting Alendra?

  Not enough time to think. The squad reached them and formed a semi-circle, ten guns pointing down at them.

  “Take off your hood,” commanded the leader, her whole body phosphorescent in Elei’s possessed eye.

  He bowed his head. What could Rex do at such close range? This was the end.

  Soft patter reached his ears from behind, padded paws crossing the cold stone floor. The peppery scent of Rex came in strong waves.

  Cats. Tens, maybe hundreds of them coming from the left in a furry tide. Their tails rose like antennas as they trotted with single-minded focus toward the guards.

  The Gultur shifted, glancing at each other, their aim steady. One of them said something in the language Elei didn’t understand, and another snickered.

  Then the cats attacked.

  “Down!” Elei grabbed Alendra and they sprawled as hissing balls of fur flew through the air and shots went wild, hitting walls and doors, sharp chips of stone and wood whizzing by, slicing through their skin. Elei raised his face enough to see the Gultur down on the floor, fighting the enraged cats that scratched and bit, snarled and growled.

  He raised his gun as Alendra stirred with a groan. Something sharp had cut her cheek and blood dribbled down her jaw. Without a word she stood, the box clutched to her chest. He nodded at her, and they backed away from the strange fight taking place on the floor.

  He held the gun pointing down as they ran back the way they’d come in, passing the ornate gates of the courts and the Echoes’ apartments. Guards were running toward the fight, barely sparing them a glance — a hooded mortal and a girl holding a small box. When one of the guards stopped and opened her mouth, frowning, Elei jerked a thumb over his shoulder.

  “Cats. They’re rabid. Do something!”

  The guard’s jaw sagged. She glanced toward the sounds of fighting and started to run.

  Alendra grabbed his hand and squeezed. They continued at a slower pace and he dropped back a step, as when they’d first entered.

  More cats passed them by, running toward the fight.

  The army of Rex. It was ridiculous, but also scary. And effective.

  Alendra tucked the box under one arm and walked at a brisk pace down the corridor, not glancing back to see if he followed.

  Colors still flashed around him, and his tainted eye throbbed in time to his pulse
. Ahead, daylight spilled through an open door. The kitchens.

  Alendra slowed, nodded toward the door and handed him the box. Right. Keep the appearances.

  They entered in silence. With one hand he held the package, with the other he kept the gun against his thigh, half-hiding it inside a pocket. His fingers clenched and unclenched around the handle. It felt weird to return here after all that had happened. Nothing had changed in the hall with the long tables, the women cutting the meat, the cloying smell of blood and human sweat, except he only saw bright outlines and flashing crimson, and the long butcher knives glowed white.

  They strode between the blood-spattered counters, the spilled blood almost black in his eyes, and crossed the threshold into the yard.

  The moment it took his eyes to adjust to the bright daylight, four guards moved in to intercept them.

  Alendra reached down for her longgun just as he began to lift his Rasmus. He grabbed her arm and shoved her toward the street, placing himself between the guards and her. If they made it out and round the corner, they may be safe.

  Shots rang. Something hit him in the shoulder blade, rattling all his bones, and he was thrown forward. He fell on top of Alendra and managed to shift to the side as they dropped, not to crush her. He rolled on his back, seeing white.

  He blinked at Alendra’s blond ponytail. Long strands of hair tickled his nose and he wrinkled it. He could’ve sworn he’d been hit, but he was still breathing. His back felt like a massive bruise. Had the snakeskin stopped the bullet?

  When he tried to move his arm, he was pleasantly surprised to find he could. His questing fingers found the box, still in one piece, just beyond his head. He pulled it to his chest.

  Steps thumped on flagstones, and the clicks of longguns loading sent him scrambling to stand. He nudged Alendra who rolled over with a small groan. Her lips were bloodied.

  Again there were guns aimed at them, gods dammit.

  He fumbled for his gun but it wasn’t there. Frantic, his heart booming, he felt around for it. His wrists burned, like stings of hot needles, as did his temples and his neck. Pissing hells, what now? He saw his Rasmus lying less than three feet away, but the guards closed in and the guns pointed down at him. A glance showed him Alendra, eyes wide, face pallid.