Rex Rising (Elei's Chronicles)

by Chrystalla Thoma

  She turned on her heel, moving without a sound, and left the apartment.

  Chapter 14

  Kalaes locked the door, his face a blank mask. He traipsed to the kitchen like a sleepwalker and Elei heard him talk on the phone. He came back with a cloth bag.

  “I got us some water and food to bring along,” he said and stared at Elei who was still sitting on the floor, as if wondering what he was doing there. Elei shook his head, trying to clear it. He tried to get up, but his legs and arms wouldn’t move.

  With jerky motions, Kalaes dropped the bag on the couch and bent over Elei, lifting him to his feet. Thankfully, he managed to avoid the puddle of vomit. “Shit. What’s happening to you, fe?”

  “Don’t know.” Elei steadied himself and wiped his mouth. Sourness, vomit, a taste from the lowest hell. “Do you trust Hera?”

  Kalaes left him hunched over the couch and brought him a glass of water. His face was set in worried lines, his brows drawn, his mouth down-turned. “They tried to kill you. So far, she hasn’t. That earns her points in my book.”

  “Yeah.” On the scale from bad to worse, she was middle-grade.

  Kalaes slung the bag strap over his shoulder and patted the gun at his side. “If she found us, then so will they. We’d better move.”

  They staggered up the stairs and into the alley. Paranoia made Elei aim his Rasmus at every moving shadow.

  “Put away the gun, fe. Keep it out of sight, you don’t want to draw attention now.”

  Elei knew Kalaes was right, but he found shoving the gun back into his belt holster difficult and when he did, his hand kept wanting to draw it.

  Another stab of pain in his stomach threatened to send him sprawling and he tensed, muscles cording in his back and legs as he fought it. Pissing hells. He followed Kalaes out and into dark back streets, doing his best to keep up. Hera’s words swirled in his mind. The Gultur wanted something he didn’t have. What chance did he have against them? They’d commanded the seven islands for centuries. They controlled everything. If they wanted him, they’d get him.

  Kalaes led him through stinking narrow passages between dusty shop fronts where dogs squabbled and the smell of piss almost had Elei retching again. He took shallow breaths and concentrated on his feet.

  “What about Maera?” he asked.

  “If she left work all of a sudden, someone might notice. They might be watching her. When I called her on the telespeak, I asked her to come and meet us later.”

  They ran among abandoned houses and fences. Kalaes dragged Elei into the shadow of a building entrance as a Gultur patrol thumped by, their visored helmets glinting. They watched the patrol go, barely daring to breathe.

  “Why do you think they haven’t found me yet?” Elei whispered. “Maera did. Frigid hells, even Hera did.”

  “I don’t know, fe. Honest. Let’s get moving.”

  Elei’s whole body hurt and his head throbbed in time to his heart as he trudged after Kalaes. Just his luck to get sick now. He’d sometimes had minor relapses. Pelia had taken care of him, come by his room to check on him. Now she’s gone. His steps dragged as he struggled to keep up with Kalaes. His head was too light, his feet too heavy. He prayed they wouldn’t fail him now.

  They hid behind a nepheline factory, an ugly concrete building, across from the food factory that stank of rotting fish, to wait for Maera. Kalaes found a deserted, dilapidated storehouse and they crept inside. It was cold and damp and Elei’s hand shook on the grip of his gun. Through the broken window, the light of a street lamp not too far off spat and flickered. Elei looked away, fighting dizziness.

  “Do you think she’s right?” He struggled to focus his thoughts. “Hera I mean. That the Gultur are the ones after me?”

  Kalaes shifted his back against the wall. “It doesn’t make any sense, fe. I mean, what could Pelia have that’d be so important? A mega bomb? An army hidden somewhere? Not sure I buy this. I can’t imagine the Gultur being scared of anything. They’ve been on top since forever, and they’re just stronger; higher in the chain of life. We can only hope to survive them and…” He trailed off and shifted again, eyes narrowing. “Hey, you’re shaking so hard you’re making me dizzy. What did you catch, fe?”

  “Wish I knew.” Elei huddled, pulling his hood low over his face, trying to conserve what little body heat he had. “It’ll pass.” His teeth clattered. “Tell me about the Gultur. About Regina.”

  Kalaes gave him a sharp look, then slumped back. “Cursed parasite that birthed the Gultur race. Listen, I don’t know so much, only that they pass it, mother to daughter. It’s what freed them of men, made them able to have children without us. Only daughters. All similar to their mothers, lines of identical women. It made them extra strong. Extra cruel. Half-mad. There’re rumors they intend to wipe us all out, clean out the worlds. They think we’re vermin, animals without reason. They say Regina makes them more than human. That it turned them into half-goddesses.”

  Elei tried to remember his biology lessons. “But if they just cloned themselves, other parasites would infect them and take over.”

  “Regina mutates a little in every generation to avoid that.” Kalaes puffed. “Not enough to prevent madness, obviously. I wonder what Pelia told you. If only you remembered…”

  “Maybe there’s nothing to remember.” The back of Elei’s eyes burned. “She was dying. Maybe she said nothing at all.”

  Fresh waves of pain wracked him. He clutched his middle, panting, and prayed it would pass. Then his stomach clenched and acid rose in his throat.

  Kalaes stirred and reached out to him, asking him something Elei couldn’t quite hear over the roaring in his ears, as he bent over and lost the rest of his dinner on the cement floor.

  “Hells,” Kalaes whispered with feeling. “I swear, your sense of timing sucks big time.”

  Elei fell back against the wall, resting his head, swallowing and hoping nothing more came up. “Tell me about it.”

  Kalaes dragged him away from the vomit and passed him a bottle from his bag. Elei took it gratefully to wash the foul taste from his mouth and found he could barely lift it. He wrapped his arms around him, hoping to stop the shivers.

  Time passed with jumps and starts. He woke up every time his head fell forward to his chest only to find himself drifting again. In the east, the sky broke into colors, and he heard Kalaes’ voice. He turned and realized the older boy was talking to him. “What?”

  “Maera has to be here soon. Let’s get the aircar ready.”

  Elei roused himself. “Do you think she’s okay?”

  “I hope so,” Kalaes said in a strained voice.

  “What if they follow her here?”

  “Can you think of another way, fe? ‘Cause I can’t.” Kalaes sucked in a deep breath. “Think you can stand?”

  Although his legs felt like jelly, Elei nodded, not trusting his voice. His throat was scraped raw from the acid. He holstered his gun and let Kalaes haul him up, sling one arm around his shoulders and drag him over to the other factory.

  Light streaked across the sky, illuminating the dirty walls that loomed now above them. Kalaes pulled him behind some moldy crates and then along the tall alum fence and the locked gates all the way to the back of the building. An empty plot of land stretched behind the factory filled with piles of metal junk.

  Kalaes propped Elei against the rusted hull of an air-truck and advanced between the metallic skeletons. Gun in hand, he disappeared inside the junkyard. Elei waited, trembling.

  Soon Kalaes returned, his grin reaching his ears. “I’ve found it.”

  He grabbed Elei’s arm and dragged him into the jumble of rusty vehicle pieces, along narrow passages. Together they pulled off the camo sheet. The vehicle Hera had chosen for them was an old aircar, not much different than the others around it. Kalaes climbed up the ladder, turned and hauled Elei up. He walked over to the door, and the key Hera had given him fit into the lock easily. The door opened. A musty smell of stuffy air and
old nepheline wafted out.

  Following Kalaes’ bent form, Elei entered and made his way to the back, the seat big enough to fit four persons. Winded already, he sank down. Inside, the aircar wasn’t as dirty as the outside had warranted. In front of him sat Kalaes, in the driver’s seat, his hands already flying over the controls, checking their function.

  “How are you feeling, fe?” he said without turning.

  “Like roadkill.”

  He expected Kalaes to grin, but when he saw the older boy’s eyes in the rearview mirror, they were serious and concerned. Elei looked away, uneasy. Maera hadn’t come yet. “What if she—“

  “She’ll come. She’ll be fine.” Kalaes pressed his lips into a thin line, shook himself and got out of the aircar, jumping off the deck instead of using the ladder. He puttered around in the engine at the back as the day brightened, then he returned, dragging in the folded camo sheet, and avoided Elei’s gaze. He placed the camo next to Elei, on the back seat.

  Soon it would be morning. They couldn’t linger, that much was clear.

  Kalaes sat at the control panel and ran his fingers over the buttons. He pulled his beeper out, stared at it and stuck it back into his pocket. “I may have to go and find—“

  “Hey, guys.” Maera poked her head in, panting with exertion, curls askew, cheeks pink, and waved at Elei. He dredged up a tired smile for her and was rewarded with a brilliant one.

  Kalaes twisted in his seat, brows lifting. “Mae! Are you all right?”

  “All clear, captain.” Kneeling on the front seat, she tugged on his braids and gave him a peck on the cheek. Then she scooted to the back and sank down on the nepheline bench beside Elei, on top of the camo. “Let’s go.”

  Kalaes straightened in his seat and shook his head of wild black hair. “About time you showed up.” He didn’t mention he’d been about to go out and look for her.

  “How are you, Kal?” Maera deposited her bag at her feet and leaned forward to talk to Kalaes over the backrest. “You look better than this morning.”

  He snorted, shrugged and revved up the aircar, taking them out of the field and onto a side street. They sped out of town. “What took you so long?”

  “Made a detour.” She twiddled her thumbs, smiling faintly. “I waylaid our pursuers.”

  “What did you do, fe?” Worry crept into Kalaes’ voice and the aircraft jerked a little. Buildings streaked by outside.

  “Remember Gino, the sweeper?” She sounded pleased with herself. “He owed me a favor. I asked him to take me in his aircar, drop me off somewhere in town and pick up a hooker.” She giggled. “He didn’t mind this last part. They’re following him all around town. I walked here.”

  “Shit. You could’ve been hurt, Mae!”

  She huffed and leaned back, closing her eyes. “Worrywart.”

  Elei shifted on the seat, trying to get comfortable. His chest and belly felt bruised from the inside.

  Maera opened her eyes and gave him a worried little smile. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah.” He probably looked as crappy as he felt, and he turned his face away from her to spare her the sight.

  “So what’s the story with this woman you said visited you?” she asked.

  Kalaes said nothing, shoulders tense, hands tight on the steering lever.

  “I guess you’ll tell me later.” Maera stared out of the window, rapping her fingers against the glass pane. “Where are we going?”

  “I thought we might go to the chamber, wait a day or two and hope our trail grows cold,” Kalaes said, and she nodded gravely.

  The chamber?

  Elei wondered what they were talking about, but then again they seemed to understand each other and they seemed to agree, and who was he to question that? His head felt heavier than his whole body. As he leaned back and closed his eyes, the sounds faded. He drifted off, tumbling into the void.

  There was silence and darkness in his slumber. Then the girl from the previous night’s dream appeared. She held in her small hands a jug sloshing with water. Rivulets ran down the clay sides, sparkling and whispering.

  Thirst made him reach out for it, but she tsked and twisted away, raising the jug to balance it on one bony shoulder.

  “And how are you today, Elei?”

  “Poena.” Cold wind buffeted him and he raised his hands to protect his face. “I’m sick.”

  “Give it time,” she said and winked. “Time is a field, on it things grow and roots plunge deep. There are ruins in that field, and ruins hide much that once was alive. And what once was alive can come to life again.”

  What? He frowned, and she giggled.

  “Echoes wander there and one has found you, Elei. Soon you will be ready. Poena will be coming to you until then, until you reach the citadel and fulfill your mission.”

  “My mission?”

  “Yes. Now wake up. Wake up, Elei.”

  “Wake up, we’re here,” a woman’s voice said very close to his ear, and his eyes snapped open. “Elei? You were dreaming.”

  No shit. Dazed, he looked up into Maera’s face. Her cheeks dimpled in a smile. Kalaes opened the door and a gust of cold entered, echoing the dream.

  The aircar had landed. Elei pushed off the bench with a grunt of pain and took Maera’s offered hand. He stepped out.

  The spires of Artemisia pierced the horizon and on the other side hills rolled in soft waves, framed by the mountains he’d seen from Aerica, closer now, steep, jutting out of the plain like teeth.

  All around him, ruins met his eyes, glimmering gray slabs of stone, some standing, some fallen, like corpses. He blinked away the image his mind provided. Trying to take his mind off blood and death, he walked toward the nearest standing stone. Patches of lichens ate at it, some red, some purple, some bright orange. He placed a hand on the rough surface, felt its grains beneath his fingertips, underneath his palm. At first, he thought the stone had a heartbeat — then realized it was his own pulse, thundering on his fingertips, echoing the ache in his head.

  He looked over to the other slabs.

  Kalaes strode toward a tall, square pillar. He knelt before it. A ritual? Elei was about to call out to him, when Kalaes turned and waved. Maera headed that way. Elei followed and saw an opening at the base of the pillar.

  “Go down.” Kalaes gestured at the hole. “Maera knows the way. I’ll cover the vehicle.”

  Maera tugged at Elei’s arm. “Come.”

  She went in first, down a rough stairway, winding into the earth. He kept his hand on the wall, not sure of his balance. The dark was broken by phosphorescent fungi that shed light on symbols carved in the walls. The steps gave way to a hallway, and then an underground chamber.

  Maera walked to the wall and pulled a lever, so that air and some light spilled inside, showing stone benches and a table. The floor was composed of gray flagstones, the same material as the standing stones outside. It was bitter cold.

  Elei shuddered. “What is this place?”

  Maera stood at one of the openings, eyes closed, breathing in the air. “Pelia brought us here once. She was to meet someone, never let us see who it was. She showed us the entrance, told us to wait here. We came here a couple of times. It was fun back then.”

  She turned to him. “We’ll wait here today. Then tomorrow I’ll go back to town, see if things have calmed down.”

  “Dangerous.” Elei sat down on one of the stone benches and took slow breaths, trying to convince his stomach to stop roiling. “You shouldn’t go.”

  “We can’t stay here indefinitely. We’re not prepared. The water and food will run out by tomorrow.”

  She was right, of course. They couldn’t remain on the run forever. First he’d caused them to lose everything, and now he was placing them in grave danger again.

  “It’s not your fault,” she said. “You had no other choice.”

  Oh great, he was doing it again, speaking his thoughts out loud. He had to explain. “I should never have come to you. To Kalaes.�
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  She shook her head. “Then where would you go?” She frowned and tilted her head at the stairwell. “What’s taking Kalaes so long?”

  He was about to stand up, too, when Kalaes appeared at the door, his cheeks red from the cold. He came to sit beside Elei, face serious.

  “Now we wait,” he said.

  Maera sat opposite them. “This woman…”

  “Hera.” Kalaes rubbed his eyes.

  “Hera then. Are we going to see her again or is she done helping us out?”

  Kalaes sighed. “I wish I knew.”

  Pelia had brought them here years before Elei met her. Pelia worked for the Undercurrent, fighting for a world with fewer taxes, fewer problems, less fear — more water, more food, more calm.

  He saw again her face, her eyes wide, blood everywhere. Her lips were moving, she was telling him something, calling his name, but he couldn’t hear the words. There was a sound like a storm brewing, wind blowing in his ears and blotting out all sound, a roaring gale that shook him. His head throbbed in time with his heartbeat, and his body convulsed with pain. He bent over and vomited onto the stone floor.

  “Hells, not again,” Kalaes muttered. Elei’s legs were sliding off the bench and Kalaes thrust out his arm, stopping him from falling to the floor.

  Maera’s voice said very close to Elei’s ear, “What in the hells do you mean again?”

  Something about the situation struck him as funny, but for the life of him, Elei couldn’t put his finger on it, not when he hadn’t felt this bad since telmion had almost killed him as a child.

  On cue, he vomited again, thick, bitter bile, for his stomach was completely empty by now. Moving was out of the question, but somehow he found himself lying on his side on the bench. Hands held him down. A jacket fell on him, covering him.

  “It started last night, when Hera was there at your place,” Kalaes was saying. “I don’t know what’s wrong, but whatever it is, it’s bad. He’s burning up. I think he needs a hospital.”

  “Yeah, and how are we going to take him there with the Gultur after him?”

  Elei closed his eyes. A relapse. It had to be. He’d been quite healthy in the last years, apart from the occasional gut twinge. He didn’t remember going to the hospital, except for one time. Pelia had taken him there. A drip of strong painkillers had been inserted in his hand, and later Pelia told him he’d spent the night weeping and calling for Albi. He didn’t recall any of it, thank the gods for small mercies.