Elei's Chronicles (Books 1-3) (63 page)

He hadn’t killed her after all.

Elei realized he’d been holding his breath and let it out explosively. He pressed a hand to his chest, trying to calm his heart. “Holy shit.”

“Hey,” Alendra said, “are you all right?”

“Are you having any chest pain?” Hera frowned at him.

Elei dropped his hand. Holy crap, he’d scared everyone with his almost heart attack back at Gortyn. “I’m okay. Really.”

“She’s alive,” Kalaes said in a faint voice and Elei turned to look at him. The pallor of his friend’s face was alarming.

“Do you believe me now?” Mantis demanded, hands on his hips.

“I’m willing to listen,” Hera conceded, the glimmer of her eyes barely visible beneath her thick lashes. “Will you help us do what we must?”

“I’ve got a boat,” Mantis said, “to take you—”

Kalaes pushed his chair back and staggered to his feet, his face gray. He spun on his heel and lurched to an open door and out of the room.

Elei swallowed hard. “That’s good enough for me.” The seleukids’ hum seemed to be getting closer. “It’s not like we’ve got many choices.”

Mantis nodded somberly. “We need to move as soon as possible. They’ll be sending drones and the gods know what else to flush you out.”

Elei got up. “I’ll be right back.”

“Kal!” he called as he entered a dark corridor. Doors opened left and right into dim rooms with shut windows, pale ghosts of beds and chairs in the gloom. “Kalaes!”

Elei found him in a small bathroom. He’d splashed water on his face and it dripped from his chin.

“What’s wrong?” Elei asked, leaning on the wall next to the sink.

“I’m...” Kalaes wiped the water off his face. His hand was shaking. Blood trickled from his nose, bright red.

“Damn it, Kal—”

Kalaes brought his fist down and slammed it into the sink so hard it cracked, a hairline fissure, making Elei flinch. “I thought she died.”
Maera
. “But, hells, she’s alive, fe, and a member of the Undercurrent Council. How’s that for a shitty way to start this trip.” He gripped his head. “Damn.”

“Let’s get you some painkillers.” Elei grabbed Kalaes’ arm and dragged him out of the bathroom and into a random room. He settled him on a bed, where Kalaes hunched over, eyes scrunched shut.

“Won’t you tell me what’s wrong with you?” Elei asked, his hands hanging uselessly at his sides, fear and worry twisting his stomach. “How I can help you?”

Kalaes shook his dark head, didn’t look up. “Just the painkillers. I’ll be fine.”

Elei suppressed a sigh. He gave a towel for Kalaes to press to his bleeding nose and left to look for the medic-kit. He found their bags by the entrance of the apartment and rummaged inside. A shadow cut the light from the overhead lamp.

“Looking for something specific?” Alendra asked softly. He looked up at her, at the white arch of her throat, her golden hair curling where it touched her shoulders. Then she knelt next to him, placing a warm hand on his bicep. “What is it?”

“Painkillers.” The slight pressure of her fingers distracted him. Her warmth seeped through his shirt and trickled into his chest.

“Where does it hurt?” she asked, a note of concern creeping into her voice.

“Not for me.” He forced his mind back to his task. “For Kalaes. He’s got a headache.”

She rummaged in the bag. “Is it that bad?”

“It is.” And the fear returned, little shards of ice cutting into his insides.

“Is he sick?” Her voice wavered and he wondered if she thought Kalaes had caught telmion from him, despite Hera telling her repeatedly it wasn’t possible.

“He won’t tell me.”

“Maybe it’s nothing.”

“Maybe.” He desperately wanted to believe that, but in his mind he kept seeing Kalaes’ slack, bleeding face, overlaid with images of him hanging between the Gultur guards at the hospital, blood dripping down his braids. If he didn’t know what was wrong with Kalaes, how could he help?

“Here you go.” She retrieved the black box from the bag and shoved it into his hands. Her breath ruffled his hair, blew sweet on his face, and her eyes held a bright light. His skin tingled all over and his mouth felt dry. He gripped the medic-kit and tried to thank her, but all words had fled his mind.

She smiled, a light curl of her full lips, and she got up and left him kneeling there trying to gather his thoughts.

He brought the pills to Kalaes who took them without any fuss, which was worrying. No sooner had Kalaes lain down than he fell asleep, which was worse. Elei covered him and hovered. There was a weight on his shoulders when he headed back to the living room where the others still sat discussing. His thigh ached, and he tried not to limp.

“The Siren Project is about finding resources,” Mantis was saying, running a hand through his fair hair. Longish wisps brushed his chin. “We thought our origin might have to do with these resources, with the roots of the islands and their history. Where we all came from, and why we’re here.”

“Was Pelia working for the project?” Hera asked with a feverish glow in her eyes.

“She never worked directly with us,” Mantis said. “She was careful not to give the Council any suspicions, or so she thought.”

“I saw her name mentioned in one of the documents about the Siren Project,” Hera said stubbornly.

“In a regime file?” Mantis paled. “Damn whoever did this to her.”

Elei stood back and pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes. Pelia. Someone had handed her over to the enemy. Betrayal upon betrayal. How could he ever know who to trust?

Hera’s mouth thinned and she rose from her seat. “Let us get ready. You said you have a boat for us. Where is it?”

“You need to walk there.” Mantis tapped his forefinger on the table. “They’ll be controlling everyone approaching the sea, every boat, every road.” He drew an imaginary curve on the nepheline surface. “We’ll move around the port, away from their patrols, north through the merchants’ quarter. The promontory of Calydon curves inward where Ytra bay begins. There’s an abandoned pier with old storehouses. My boat awaits you.”

“Are the seleukids gone?” Alendra looked nervously at the shuttered window. “We can hardly go traipsing out when they’re looking for us.”

“Best to split up into two groups,” Sacmis said, “and carry what we can with us.”

“We need to buy provisions on the way.” Hera started to pace. “We did not have much to start with.”

“We’ll pass some shops,” Mantis said. “They stay open ’til late.”

“I have enough dils for bread and water.” Hera frowned. “Not enough to pay for the boat, though.”

“Don’t you worry, lady, the boat’s on me.” Mantis winked at her and leaned his hip against the table. “I guess we’re set to go.”

Chapter Nine

E
vening was
falling in swirls of gold and orange across the sky. A cold wind blew from the sea. Standing at the open door of the building, Elei breathed in the salty tang laced with the smell of the streets — burnt dakron from the aircars, rotten meat and vegetables from a dumpster, cat and dog piss, a fooncake being fried inside an apartment.

Mantis raised his hand and stepped outside.

They trickled out of the building in two groups, carrying backpacks provided by Mantis, stuffed with their things — food, water, weapons, medic-kits, clothes. Elei also carried the thermos with his medicine.

Mantis led the first group composed of Hera and Sacmis, while the rest— Alendra, Kalaes and himself — formed the other.

A whistle tore through the dark. Swarms of children burst through the alleys, crept from behind dumpsters and aircars, cleaner and better fed than the street kids of Teos. Mantis probably took care of them —
his army
, Elei realized as the kids circled them, then moved out, glancing over their shoulders and gesturing for them to follow.

He exchanged a look with Kalaes, who seemed more like himself. He’d said he’d be fine, hadn’t he? Elei wanted to ask him how he’d met Mantis, what he thought of all they’d heard, but that could wait until later.

Alendra wore her hood so low only her eyes peeked through, a brilliant amber. Elei tugged his own hood lower and pulled on the straps of his backpack.

“Let’s go,” he said and they set out, following the children. He couldn’t help noticing Mantis led Hera and Sacmis in a slightly different direction, but it was probably to confuse the enemy. Hera trusted the blond boy, and he was their best chance.

They darted between aircars, weaved their way through a crowd jostling outside a water-vendor’s shop, then jumped behind a telespeak cabin when the hum of drones filled the air. They descended from the sky like locusts, blocking their way.

“Oh shit.” Kalaes looked up. “Damn machines and their pissing owners.”

Elei shoved Alendra behind him as Kalaes peeked around the corner. “Can you see any? Have they landed?”

“I see one.” Kalaes backed a little, bumping into Elei. “Hells, I don’t think we can outrun drones.”

“Can they pick up life forms?” Elei asked. “You know, heat sources, infrared radiation?”

“They can,” Alendra said.

Elei’s mind churned. “See that street there? That’s the way the street kids went. I bet they’re waiting for us. Go as soon as I lead the drone away.”

“What? Elei, no, dammit.” Kalaes reached out for him, dark brows knotting, but Elei twisted aside.

“Elei!” Alendra’s hands found his wrists and gripped hard. “We go together or not at all.”

“Well,” Elei said, “I don’t agree.”

Bullets smashed into the cabin, shattering the panes.

“I’ll see you later.” He tore free and ran. Rex kicked the insides of his skull and drummed on the back of his possessed eye. The street dissolved into flashing colors and the familiarity of it was almost soothing.
Almost
. His heart pounded, and each running step sent a shock up his spine.

He skidded to a halt as the drone loomed before him, the size of a small aircar, gray and diamond-shaped. The canons mounted on either side were rotating, preparing to shoot.

A glance around showed him an infopole. With a leap, he found himself behind it, plastered to the narrow pillar, as bullets zipped around, one of them nicking his calf. The infopole shuddered under the multiple impacts, vibrated and shook. If it fell, that was the end. Elei checked for any other cover, but another volley of bullets forced him to straighten, hold his breath and hope the ammo ran out.

The shooting stopped and the engines of the drone whirred harder. Elei peered around the edge and saw the drone turn, its cannons rotating once more, aimed at a heap of dumpsters on a street corner. Someone stood there, hood pulled low over their face. A lock of blond hair escaped and blew with the wind.

Alendra
.

Cursing, Elei swung out of his cover and raced toward her. What was she doing? He’d told them to move out, told them to leave.

The drone halted, turned once more. Another figure slouched against a shop window, broad-shouldered and without a hood, spiky hair standing up.
Kalaes
.

Elei’s breath left his lungs. They’d both stayed. An odd pain twisted inside his chest, and his lips quirked.

Then the drone began shooting, and Elei’s blood froze. He launched himself at it, yelling, “Here! Here!”

He covered the few feet separating him from the machine and jumped, grabbing the drone’s edge and swinging on top of it. He swayed as the drone shifted, alarms blaring. At least it’d stopped shooting at Kalaes, who was now nowhere to be seen.

The drone turned. Elei wondered for a moment if the systems could sense him, but another lurch threw him backward, and he smashed his hand into the steel surface of the drone to keep from rolling off. Blinding pain went up his arm, but he managed to sit and wiggled his fingers. Not broken. Thank the gods for small mercies.

He crawled to one side, hoping to find the fuel tank or reactor engine. But when he lifted his head, he stilled, his breath hissing between his lips.

More drones flew down the avenue at him.

Bullets hit the street, and he heard two voices call his name. Pulse racing, sweat sticking his hair to his forehead, he half-fell, half-scrambled down to the drone’s short wing and seized hold of the cannon. He pulled. The muscles burned in his shoulders and chest as he strained and heaved.

The cannon broke with a loud crack. The whole panel came off, and Elei sprawled back on the wing, cradling the heavy gun.

More bullets zipped, one dangerously close to his leg, and he sat up, groaning. The drone lurched and swiveled. No time left. Elei turned the cannon toward the other drones. He found the mechanism, activated the rotating clip and pulled the trigger lever.

The cannon jumped in his hands, spewing large cartridges, and he steadied it against his leg as he fired on the oncoming drones.

“Elei, come down,” Kalaes was shouting. “You’re a target!”

Elei ignored him, loosing another round which sent the closest drone into a spin, and the one after crashing into it. It exploded with a deafening bang. Roaring flames jumped high in the air and a rain of burning shrapnel fell all around. It was strangely beautiful, bits of fire flying, like falling stars.

“Elei, dammit, come on down!” Kalaes yelled.

Ducking a piece of flaming metal, Elei threw himself sideways. The cannon hit the wing and fell from his hands. He followed it, sliding down the side of the drone. He dropped ten feet to the ground and fell next to the broken remains of the cannon.

Hands grabbed him, lifting him to his feet. “Come on,” Kalaes said, “hurry.”

“Where’s Alendra?” Elei ground out.

“She’s fine.” Kalaes dragged him toward one of the side streets.

“You shouldn’t have stayed. I told you to go. You could’ve been killed.”

“And so could you.” Kalaes’ glare could melt metal as he hauled Elei, none too gently, toward the safety of one of the narrowest streets Elei had ever seen —  surely drones couldn’t pass through it — and shoved him forward. “If anyone should’ve stayed behind, that was me.”

“And why’s that?” Elei felt mutinous.

“I’m your older brother,” Kalaes retorted, “and you should obey me.”

Elei snorted, even as small hands gripped him and turned him around.

“What were you thinking?” Alendra hissed, her glare a match for Kalaes’. “Trying to kill yourself?”

“I...” The words fled. Staring into her furious eyes, Elei struggled to remember to breathe. Their faces were so close he felt the warmth of her flushed cheeks and smelled her fresh scent. “I wasn’t.”

Alendra let him go with a huff. “Good,” was all she said and stalked along the alley. “Come on, both of you, before we’re bombed from above. The kids are waiting.”

Elei had to force his limbs to unlock, his feet to move.

Kalaes punched his shoulder lightly in passing. “She likes you, fe, didn’t I tell ya?” he drawled. “She cares if you live or die. That’s always a good sign.”

Elei closed his gaping mouth and jogged after him. “She avoided me the whole time we were at the safe house.”

“Not the point.” Kalaes waved a hand. “Just be careful.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Kalaes hurried toward a group of four small children and Alendra standing with her hands on her hips, waiting for them, “hearts are easily broken.”

Elei glanced around at the streets they passed by. The hum of the drones was disconcertingly close. “I know she’s had a hard time with everyone dying on her. I wasn’t going to—”

“Hells, fe.” Kalaes didn’t look at him. “
You
’re my brother. I barely know her. I was talking about you.”

***

The tang of salt and rotten seaweed was closer now. They moved through the maze of narrow streets, slipping into the shadows whenever they heard the drones or the seleukids overhead. In those moments, passers-by raised their faces to the sky and muttered prayers and curses as they hurried away, barely sparing their little group or the scurrying street children any notice.

Elei felt suddenly happy he’d grown up in the trashlands of Ost with minimum Gultur presence. He wondered what it was like to live every day under scrutiny.

“They’re moving,” Alendra said, pointing at the kids. They’d stopped to talk to a beggar at a street corner, but now they skittered along, throwing urgent looks behind them.

“After them,” Kalaes said.

They followed the children, passing small shops faintly lit from the inside. Customers slid in and out of the half-open doors, clutching their purchases to their chests. Unlike on Ost, or even in Artemisia and Aerica where everyone seemed dressed in gray and black, the people here wore brightly colored items which gave them an unexpected air of festivity. They sported pink scarves and orange hats, red gloves or yellow shoes, some even going as far as to wrap themselves in deep purple coats or light blue capes and carry bright yellow umbrellas.

“It’s normal on this coast and the western islands,” Alendra whispered when she caught him staring. “The colors. I used to dress like that. Asine isn’t far from here.”

He imagined her wearing a pink scarf and had to smile.

“What is it?” she whispered, her eyes coppery in the faint light from a flickering street lamp. “Why are you smiling?”

“Just thought of something,” he hedged.

“What?”

An aircar zoomed by, honking at an old woman who crossed the street with small, tottering steps.

“How things could’ve been,” he said. “If we were at peace.”
If you were carefree and carried a yellow umbrella instead of a gun, a smile instead of a frown
.

“We will be,” she said, her voice ringing with conviction, “again. You’ll see.”

Surprised, he turned to have a better look at her face. Knowing about her past, he hadn’t expected her to be so hopeful.

Wait...
Elei glanced around. “Where’s Kalaes?”

Alendra slowed, tugging on the straps of her backpack. “What do you mean? He was right behind me.” She turned, eyes widening as she scanned the street. “Where in the hells is he?”

Elei wheeled around. Flashes of Kalaes unconscious in the aircar tore into his mind like shrapnel. “Maybe he’s hurt.”

“Wait.” Alendra half-ran, half-skipped to keep up with him as he doubled back, retracing their steps along the street and through a filthy alley. “We’ll lose the kids! How are we going to find our way—”

“I don’t care. No way in the five hells am I leaving him behind,” Elei snapped and she flinched. “I’m worried about him,” he tried to explain, his breath rattling in his chest, his tainted eye throbbing and lighting the world in neon hues. He realized he expected to find Kalaes slumped in a doorway or ever worse, lying face down in the street, not moving. “It’s just that he hasn’t been well. He refuses to tell me what’s wrong, but...”