Elei's Chronicles (Books 1-3)

by Chrystalla Thoma

He slowed to a halt near an area with tables and chairs where a man still sat with a plate in his hand, gaping.

  “Elei?” Hera’s voice came through the cabin door. “What’s happening?”

  “Waiting for the fleet to move on.” He glanced at Kalaes. “Sit tight.”

  He hoped the secondary engines wouldn’t fail or blow up. He hoped Kalaes was okay. Hells.

  “Let’s move,” Sacmis said and, despite his misgivings, he appreciated her decisiveness right then.

  He strained his ears for the hum of seleukids but heard nothing. “Where?”

  “That way.” She pointed. “Now, before they sweep back.”

  They shot out of the market onto another busy avenue. Sacmis pointed to the left and he turned, telling himself Hera trusted her. Sacmis had saved their lives before and had no reason to betray them now.

  Are you sure?

  He told the objecting voice in his mind to go screw itself and drove on. Right, left, left, right — he lost count of the turns and twists in the older part of town, sick with worry for Kalaes, jerking every time he thought he heard the seleukids.

  “Here.” Sacmis pointed past him to a black gap in the row of crumbling buildings. A gate large enough for an aircar to pass.

  Without hesitation, he turned into the darkness and drove down a ramp into what looked like an underground parking lot with faint orange lights. Another aircar was parked there and Elei halted at a distance. He powered down the engine and uncurled his fingers from the steering lever.

  He turned to Kalaes and clasped his shoulder. “Hey, can you hear me?” He shook him. “Kal!”

  Kalaes blinked slowly and winced. “What happened?”

  Elei fought the urge to shake him harder, fought the irrational anger he knew was born of fear. “How do you feel?”

  Kalaes sat up, throwing out a hand to the backrest to steady himself. “What the hells happened?”

  “You passed out.” Sacmis glared as if Kalaes could’ve done it just to spite her.

  A shadow of fear went through Kalaes’ eyes. “I must’ve fallen asleep,” he said and stretched as if to prove it, teeth glinting in a grin. “A cat nap.”

  “A cat would have run screaming when the explosions began,” Sacmis observed drily and stepped out into the cabin. “Maybe you need food.”

  Kalaes frowned and opened his mouth to say something when Hera stepped into the cockpit. Her gaze raked Kalaes from head to toes, her mouth in a grim line.

  “Come,” she said. “This is the safe house Sacmis found. We need to discuss many things.” She held Elei’s gaze a moment longer than necessary, as if trying to tell him something, and then she was gone.

  The cut on Kalaes’ cheek was an angry red line. Black tears of blood had run down to his collar.

  “You’re sick, aren’t you?” Elei forced the words out. His voice was hoarse. “Is it something the Gultur did to you at the hospital?”

  Kalaes didn’t answer. Instead, he pushed himself upright, swaying a little, but when Elei reached out to help him, he shoved past and stumbled out of the cockpit and through the aircar cabin. Elei followed him out to the deck and down the ladder.

  When Elei came down in the dark, echoing space of the parking lot, Kalaes shrugged. “I’ll be okay,” he said. “Don’t worry about me.”

  “Yeah, right.” Elei could barely breathe past the knot in his chest. “You passed out, Kal. You pissing passed out.” He clenched his fists. “In the middle of a chase. The Fleet was after us. We barely made it. And you were out for the whole of it.”

  Kalaes bent his head. “The Fleet?”

  Elei tried to calm his ragged breathing. “Yeah.” The fear wouldn’t let up, a fist around his heart.

  The others were heading for some rickety stairs. Kalaes started after them, and Elei had no choice but to fall in step. They climbed up together.

  “Tell me what’s wrong,” Elei said.

  “Listen to me.” Kalaes turned and clasped Elei’s shoulders. His gaze was clear and honest. “Calm down. I’ll be okay. I’ve had this before, and I’ll take care of it.”

  “What is it, then? Tell me.”

  Kalaes waved a dismissive hand. “I just need some vitamins.”

  Elei gave him an incredulous look. “What in the hells? Vitamins? That’s all?”

  “It’s nothing,” Kalaes said firmly. “I got dizzy and must’ve hit my head on the panel, got knocked out for a while. I’ll be fine, okay?”

  Elei swallowed back the worry and managed a nod. Kalaes sounded so sure, so in control. “You’d better,” he muttered.

  Kalaes grinned. He reached out and ruffled Elei’s hair, forcing him to duck. “Come on, fe,” he said cheerfully. “Let’s go see what Hera’s girlfriend wants from us.”

  And he resumed climbing as if nothing had happened, as if he hadn’t fallen head-first on the control panel, as if he hadn’t slumped on the seat, blood running down his cheek, while the seleukids fired at them, as if...

  As if he was trying to protect Elei from an ugly truth.

  That couldn’t be. Doubt made Elei stagger, and he slowed down. He stared at the back of Kalaes’ spiky head. What if he was hiding something? Given Elei’s almost heart-attack of a few days back, maybe he was afraid of stressing him.

  Dammit.

  They reached the top of the stairs and Elei jogged to catch up as they wound down a dark corridor. He had to talk to Hera. There’d been something in the way she’d looked at Kalaes. Perhaps she knew more than she was letting on.

  ***

  A dirty lamp set on the table bathed the room in yellow light. Alendra sat, her hair a mist around her head, her eyes transparent. She turned them on Elei as he entered, pinning him, examining him. He halted.

  “Elei?” Hera’s face was in shadow and her hair shone like polished iron. “Everything okay?”

  No, he wanted to shout. What’s wrong with him? But Kalaes sat next to Alendra and poked her in the ribs, a lopsided grin on his face. She giggled. He looked almost normal.

  Sacmis stood by a tall, shuttered window, looking down at the street through a crack. Cold air passed through the grilles, smelling of exhaust fumes, blowing her hair back. She’d redone her high ponytail so it swung jauntily when she turned and folded her arms under her breasts.

  “Take a seat.” Her cold gray eyes regarded him as he obeyed. “I promised Hera to talk, so that’s what I’ll do.” She raised an eyebrow. “If I let you in on what I know, will you listen to my suggestions?” Her gaze focused on Hera, who was glaring.

  “If you’re talking about me calling Nine,” Hera grated, “by Nunet’s snakes, I swear—”

  “Hear me out, Hera,” Sacmis said, her gaze oddly vulnerable. “Just for once.”

  “I’ll listen,” Hera’s shoulders were stiff. “Is it about the Siren project?”

  “Partly,” Sacmis said.

  “Go ahead and dazzle us with your secrets, sweetheart.” Kalaes tapped his fingertips on the table, his eyes dark like chips of dakron, glinting in the mellow light. “I bet you’re the mastermind behind some complex plan to save us all — maybe uproot Dakru and sail away into the sunset for all I know.”

  “Very funny,” Sacmis said, coming to stand at the head of the table. “And do not call me that.”

  “Not call you what? Mastermind?” He looked baffled. “I wasn’t aware it was an insult.”

  “Do not call me sweetheart,” she snapped.

  “Well, if it’s any consolation, I didn’t mean anything by it.” Kalaes’ gaze turned hard.

  “Kal...” Elei said warningly.

  “Come on, children.” Alendra tapped her hand on the table. “Enough playing. The Fleet is still hunting us, we don’t have time to squabble.”

  Sacmis harrumphed. Kalaes shrugged, his eyes half-lidded and a faint smile playing on his lips. Hera was fiddling with the table edge. Elei could count on one hand the number of times he’d seen her look this uncomfortable.

  “I hope you will not
betray my trust,” Sacmis said and her voice wavered. “You saw Nine’s reaction to the map, and you heard that our own side double-crossed us. The Undercurrent council is corrupt.”

  “The Undercurrent council can’t be pissing corrupt.” Kalaes’s dark eyes flashed with anger. “They’ve been resisting the regime for as long as I can remember. My father sat on that council, was goddamn killed by the regime for working for the resistance. You can’t just walk in here and slander them!”

  He’d half-risen, fists pressed into the table surface so hard they looked like they’d leave indents in the brown nepheline.

  “Kal,” Hera reached out blindly to clasp his forearm, “sit down.”

  “Dione has vanished, Kalaes,” Sacmis said. “Things have changed. Three women with code numbers as names have taken over. Nine is one of them.”

  Kalaes fell back into his chair, wincing, and shook his head.

  “Hard to credit.” Hera released him and straightened. “I thought I still reported to Dione.”

  “Dione vanished before I joined the resistance,” Sacmis said.

  “Sacmis,” Alendra said, propping her elbows on the table and leaning forward. “We hardly know you, well, most of us anyway,” she shot a look at Hera who stared blankly ahead, “and you want us to believe that the resistance we’ve all been working for is corrupt and gave us over to the regime.”

  “They said so, did they not?” Sacmis said, her face grim. “At that village where they attacked us. They said our own side betrayed us.”

  “The enemy,” Hera said slowly, lifting her gaze to Sacmis, “would say anything to hurt us.”

  Sacmis gripped the back of the chair in front of her and sighed. “I feared you’d not be easily convinced. So how do you think we were betrayed?”

  “How about you tell us?” Alendra said.

  “Could be you betrayed us,” Kalaes muttered, “and that you’re carrying a biotransmitter to give away our position. We’ve seen it before.”

  Like Maera. Elei’s throat was painfully dry.

  “Good thinking. But Hera checked both me and Alendra,” Sacmis said. “We’re clean.”

  “You did?” Elei turned to Hera, surprised.

  She nodded, her long dark hair billowing like a silken curtain. “Back at the safe house. One cannot be too careful.”

  Something about this struck Elei as funny and his lips twitched. “So you got both girls naked without us present.” Then he caught Alendra’s blushing face and his mouth went dry. “I mean...”

  Kalaes snorted. Hera scowled harder and said nothing. She looked pointedly away.

  “So is this your response?” Sacmis sounded tired. “You will not believe me?”

  Kalaes opened his mouth, but Elei beat him to it. “Depends. Can you tell us more?”

  Sacmis pulled out the chair and sat. Her face was drawn, and the bandage around her shoulder stained with fresh blood. Her sleeve hung empty; she’d shrugged it off to have the wound dressed. Hera leaned forward, as if against her own volition.

  But it was Alendra who asked, “Are you okay, Sacmis? You’re bleeding.”

  Sacmis rubbed a hand over her face. “I’m fine.”

  Hera seemed unable to look away from the bloody bandage. Her hands clenched and unclenched on the table. Quiet filled the room, and then a patter of sounds filtered from the outside — aircars honking, a child shouting, a dog barking, and seleukids flying overhead.

  Elei wondered if they might bomb Calydon, like they’d bombed Akmon, to draw them out, kill them on the spot.

  “I was accepted into the resistance about two years ago,” Sacmis said, her voice soft. “The resistance,” she looked down at her hands, folded on the table, “but not the Undercurrent.”

  Kalaes flinched.

  “Why did you join?” Hera asked. “You believed in the ideals of the Gultur.”

  “Something happened to change my mind.” Sacmis took a sharp breath. “I was so angry at you for doubting us.” She glanced at Hera. “I did not believe you when you said mortals had helped us during our first patrol. Could not believe it. Mortals are animals with no reason, and they slaughtered us during the Great War. Everyone knows that.”

  Alendra made a small noise in the back of her throat, and Kalaes squinted at Sacmis as if he couldn’t see her well.

  “What did you say?” he demanded.

  Only Hera seemed unsurprised. “That’s what they teach us,” she said, “since infancy.”

  “I was transferred to Artemisia after my first two years on the island of Aue, with a promotion. I headed a unit of enforcers.” Sacmis’ cheekbones flushed. “I thought it was great. I believed I was punishing criminals, unlawful mortals who set out to destroy us, shatter the peace.” She shrugged, a graceful, sparse movement. “I had not known I was to kill children.”

  Elei frowned. “You did what?”

  “I was told to burn down certain buildings where criminals were hiding,” she whispered. “I did not know... I should have suspected something was off, but I did not. Could not.”

  Elei couldn’t breathe. He thought of Afia and Jek and all those grimy little faces in Teos. “What happened?”

  “In one of those extermination missions, as they called them, I thought I heard children screaming. I approached and entered the foyer of a building.” She looked at her hands. “I got caught in a wall of smoke and passed out. When I came to, a child sat next to me, face blackened, and asked if I was okay. A group of mortal children had managed to drag me out of the crumbling foyer. Next to me lay little corpses.”

  Her hands spasmed on the table, and Hera reached out and covered them. “Sh,” was all she said.

  Sacmis shook her head. “I realized something was very wrong. I started seeing things I’d refused to see before. I decided to join the resistance. I found someone who helped me, who made me a part of it, and who also told me that the Undercurrent could not be trusted.” She gripped Hera’s hands. “He told me that the Undercurrent Council betrayed them time and again. That he couldn’t trust them, but that if I wanted, I could join him and his army of street children.”

  Elei sucked in a sharp breath. You’ll need an army, Afia had said. We’ll be your army, your eyes and ears. “Who was he?”

  “He said he knows you, Hera,” Sacmis said quietly. “And he’s here.”

  “Me?” Hera blinked. “Sacmis...”

  A knock and the door creaked. Elei leaped to his feet with a curse, drew his gun and took aim. From the corner of his eye he saw Kalaes do the same.

  The door swung open and someone stepped inside — a boy of Elei’s build, with white-blond hair that fell to his shoulders in curling wisps. The handles of guns jutted over each hip, and he wore black pants and a blue, long-sleeved shirt. His dark eyes swept over them, confident and hard.

  “Are you going to shoot me?” he asked lightly, a sandy eyebrow raised.

  Hera gasped and pushed back her chair. It screeched on the linoleum floor as she stood up. “You...” she whispered, her voice raw with shock. “Are you...?”

  The boy took a small, mocking bow, blond hair tumbling forward to hide his face, but his smile when he straightened was pleased. “You remembered me. I remember you as well, Hera.” A faint scar ran across his chin, long and thin, as if made with a sharp blade. “For those who don’t know me, I’m Mantis.”

  Chapter Eight

  “That’s an odd name you’ve got.” Kalaes stood by the window, arms folded across his chest, one foot propped on the wall. “A code name?”

  “Nah, it’s my real name.” Mantis rummaged in one of the bags of food someone had thought to bring upstairs, and pulled out a box of sweet K-fungi, the smell making Elei’s mouth water.

  No sweet for you. It’d only make Rex stronger. Elei’s hands fisted. “How do you know the Council is corrupt?”

  “Besides, why should we pissing believe you?” Kalaes muttered. “I bet you’re only saying the Undercurrent Council is corrupt to replace them.” He coc
ked his head to the side, scowling.

  Mantis lifted a K-bloom, examined it for a moment, then bit into it, his eyes closing in bliss. “Because,” he said, swallowing, “they sold you out, like they sold me.”

  “I met Mantis four years ago.” Hera leaned against the table, gripping its edge. “He’s the one who put me in touch with the resistance.” She stared at him, an odd expression of fondness softening her face. “I often wondered what happened to you.”

  He grinned. “That’s nice of you. I didn’t have to wonder. I kept tabs on you.”

  She frowned. “You did? Why?”

  “First because I didn’t trust you,” he said, still grinning. “Then because I did.”

  “What do you mean, they sold you out?” Elei asked.

  “Oh, shortly after I met Hera,” Mantis finished the rest of the K-bloom, “the Undercurrent asked my gang and two others to break into a storehouse and steal weapons.” He licked his fingers one by one. “The guards were waiting for us, even knew our names and histories. Not many of us escaped.” His expression darkened. “This happened once more, and I started to avoid contact with the Undercurrent. I talked to other street gangs, heard more such stories. Something was fishy.”

  “That’s not proof,” Alendra said, and Kalaes gave a supportive huff.

  “I guess my death would’ve been better proof?” Mantis asked.

  “You can’t be hoping to grab the power if the regime falls, can you?” Kalaes asked, his voice low but sharp.

  Mantis laughed. It was a clear, ringing laughter that splashed in the room like cool water. “Are you mad? I’m just a kid.”

  A kid. Elei leaned back in his chair, observing Mantis. Strange that a street kid felt like a child, even if he led a resistance movement, while Elei had never felt that way for as long as he could remember. He fought the protectiveness that welled inside him. Mantis didn’t need that.

  And Elei couldn’t protect him, even if he wanted to.

  “So you are the head of a revolutionary movement,” Alendra said slowly, “and just by chance you were here when Sacmis called to ask for help. Kind of odd, isn’t it?”