Elei's Chronicles (Books 1-3) (14 page)

Maera hesitated, and Kalaes shook his head, his face white. “She led us into a pissing trap.”

But what if she was telling the truth?

“Kalaes.” Elei placed a hand on Maera’s arm and looked into Kalaes’ wide eyes. “We haven’t got the time for anything else. Let her.”

“If they see us, the game is over,” Hera muttered. “Now or never.”

Sweat beaded Kalaes’ forehead like minute teardrops. Maera’s arm trembled under Elei’s fingers. The Fleet rumbled behind them, a gigantic wave rising to engulf them.

Kalaes released the lever. Elei sagged. With Maera’s hand still on her shoulder, Hera pushed the lever and straightened the aircar. Punching the acceleration to the maximum, she drove them up the steep hill road. The whole vehicle vibrated with tension. They crested the summit, plunged behind it and came to land in a hollow, immediately powering down into stand-by mode.

Bathed in golden late afternoon light, they sat and listened to the quiet. Above the whisper of rapid breathing, the hum of the
seleukids
came and went.

 “Now what?” Kalaes said after a moment.

Hera didn’t turn toward them. “We hide and wait until they pass. It could work for a while.” She sat still in her seat, her hands relaxed on the controls. She didn’t even seem to be breathing, and Elei had a brief moment of fear that she’d somehow died sitting there. Then she twitched her hand and pressed the energy conservation button, and he crushed his stupid thoughts.

Above boomed
seleukids
. The diamond-shaped, military aircrafts flew over their tiny craft in long, black lines, splitting the sky.

Gods, so many!
Kalaes was right. They’d sent the Fleet. The whole damn Fleet to find him. Elei’s heart sank in dark despair.

They waited in silence until the last ones had passed and vanished over the mountain, leaving behind white lines of fumes. Kalaes’ and Maera’s faces were pale, their eyes wide. Hera just looked pissed. She jabbed at the controls.

The aircar powered up again. A loose panel rattled, grating on Elei’s nerves. Hera thumbed the screen, switched to flight mode and took them out of the depression in the ground in whose shadow they’d hidden. They flew toward the mountains.

The first one rose like a pinnacle, and they traveled over gray hamlets nestled on mountain terraces, on to Akmon. It was a small mining town built on the slope, on a plateau, with high buildings half-carved into the mountainside, half-built over the road that curled around it. Hera took them down on a narrow landing pad, setting the aircar down perfectly on the indicated lines, near another small vehicle.

She turned toward them, face expressionless. “Here.” She reached over the seat and placed a piece of paper into Elei’s lax hand. His fingers curled around it reflexively. “The code for the main door, on the ground level. Apartment number 16. It’s the building beside the air-truck station.” Her eyes hid in shadow.

Elei pushed the paper into his pocket, patted it. The gesture reminded him of the paper Pelia had shoved into his pocket. He wondered why Hera had given it to him, and not to one of the others. Kalaes seemed a more natural choice.

“You’ll just leave us here? With no way to leave?” Maera’s voice rose in volume with each word.

Hera gave her a long look. “Yes. Are you going to cry, little girl?”

“Hey.” Kalaes placed his arm around Maera’s thin shoulders. “You don’t have to be rude. We’re not used to running from the Fleet. Are you?”

Hera scowled. “Off you go.”

Maera huffed and pushed the door open. She climbed out without a word.

“They must have realized we fooled them,” Hera said, her expression not changing. “I’ll try to distract them and keep them as far away from you as possible.”

Elei opened his mouth, but Hera’s dark gaze pinned him like an insect, examining him. Her lips parted slightly, just enough for a faint exhalation that sent a white cloud into the air.

“Thank you,” was all he had the time to say before Kalaes went out of the door and called his name. Elei struggled to the opening and sat with his legs hanging over the edge. Kalaes gripped his arms and pulled him out bodily. They joined Maera on the landing pad. Together they stood on the wind-swept flank of the mountain, hair whipping, and watched as the aircar took off with a roar of engines. Following the narrow road, it dipped down the slope, vanishing from view, like part of a conjuring trick.

The mountain rose above them, vertical cliffs cut with platforms of mines and desolate hamlets. Akmon had one main street, lit with four street lamps, and a couple of back streets. As they walked down the road, they saw a food store, a lamp flashing on its porch. A skinny dog hobbled around a corner and whined.

“There.” Kalaes pointed at the air-truck station. Maera went up front, Kalaes helped Elei along, for which Elei was both grateful and embarrassed. The building next to the station was gray and dark. Nothing moved around it, no light burned in its windows. Didn’t anybody live there?

A spiral staircase wound up its façade, creaking in the cold wind, with landings at each floor. Maera waited at the main ground level door, while Elei fumbled with the piece of paper, turning it in the direction of the faint light from the station. Hesitantly he punched in the code, and the door hissed open.

They stumbled in the black of the corridor as the door shut behind them, found the apartment at its end and entered. Kalaes cursed as he searched the walls for a switch. It was Maera who found it, illuminating two big furnished rooms and what looked like a bathroom.

Maera went to explore. “Hey, would you look at this! A shower.” She whistled.

Elei fell into a black, cloth-covered armchair and sighed. A shower? He wondered how the Undercurrent could afford such luxury. The water used was undrinkable, of course, tainted a light blue from
silla
remnants. Not a problem for the skin. He’d love to use it, but he was just too tired to move. On Ost, he’d paid a small fortune to use the communal showers once in a while. Sometimes people stared at his marked back, sometimes they picked fights with him. Mostly, though, they avoided him with a sort of superstitious fear, for having survived.

They weren’t more surprised than he was about it.

“Never seen a shower in a private apartment before,” Kalaes muttered.

Elei hadn’t either. Did Pelia have one? He’d never entered beyond her living room. So many things he’d never thought to ask her, and now it was too late.

“Hey, are you going into a coma again, fe?” Kalaes’ eyes narrowed. “Drink some more water first, eat some bread. Here.”

Kalaes dropped his bag on a table and took out the bottle. He unscrewed it and pushed it into Elei’s hands. “Are you listening?”

Elei took a swig and realized how thirsty he was. He swallowed and swallowed, and he’d probably have drunk it all if Kalaes hadn’t pried it from his fingers with a snort.     

“You’re really feeling better, aren’t you?”

Elei took stock of his sluggish body, flexed his fingers, rolled his shoulders. Yes, he was feeling better. But he needed to sleep. Kalaes pushed a chunk of bread into his hand, and he bit into it mechanically, eyelids drooping.

When Maera checked the furniture, brushing off dust and cobwebs, Kalaes bent to help her and their shoulders touched. Maera giggled. Kalaes shoved her playfully and she shoved him back.

They were flirting.

Elei’s chest tightened and he wiped the breadcrumbs from his lap. They seemed happy together. And they had no homes anymore and no jobs, thanks to him. He’d taken everything from them, given nothing back. Just like he had done to Pelia. She’d taken him in and he’d never had the chance to do something nice for her or even thank her.

He wasn’t worth keeping around.

That was his last little thought before he fell fast asleep where he sat.

“Still alive, huh?” said Poena and reached out to him. “Come, take my hand.” She stood in a long boat on a blue lake, her yellow dress blinding bright against a black horizon. “Come on, try.”

He tried to move in his dreamscape, but couldn’t control his body. “Can’t. Why?” A temple rose behind her, though he was sure it wasn’t there a moment ago. Tall statues of nude women held its marble roof, and jets of water jumped before the many steps that led up to the entrance. “What is this place?” 

“The fountainhead.” The girl smiled. “The great source. Where you must go. Spill the blood in the water, Elei.”

He managed to raise his hand, as if through hardening glue, but he still couldn’t touch her. “I’ve met you somewhere before, haven’t I?”

She giggled. “Everything is possible, my king.”

“King?” He laughed. “This is a good dream.”

“Is it?” She turned serious, dropped her hand and glanced over her shoulder at the temple with the water jets. Her eyes glinted like a cat’s, and sudden fear rose in his throat. “Not everything is as it seems to be, my king. You’ll see.”

He jerked awake to a sound he couldn’t place. It made him think of pain. He stayed very still, listening.

A moan.

He pushed himself to his feet, muscles screaming, pulled out his gun, and stumbled to the door. His heart thumped, but the world didn’t bloom into colors like every time since he could remember. Why was cronion not reacting? Was it truly dead?

He considered the situation. They’d been found, obviously. Someone had hurt the others, but had missed him.

Screw them. They were going to pay dearly. Now this sickness was over, he would finally take action. He leveled his gun and softly pushed the door of the other room, looked inside.

And froze.

On the couch lay two bodies. Elei stared, hardly breathing. The bodies moved. Not dead, they were not dead. And… He saw dark curls and a woman’s beautiful breasts, small and firm with sugar brown nipples. Her long legs were creamy white, stretched out and displayed against the dark green fabric of the couch. A man’s broad back, unmarred, smooth, rippled with muscles as he nuzzled her neck. Drops of sweat rolled down his spine, catching a lamp’s faint light with tiny sparks. A soft moan sounded. 

And Elei still stared like a fool.
Pissing hells
.

He’d almost shot them.

Elei lowered his gun and backed out before they sensed his presence, before he spoilt it for them. He staggered out, leaned on a wall and cursed silently. Of course. He should have expected it.

Kalaes had finally convinced Maera to have sex.

Perhaps Kalaes would laugh all day now — after all, he’d grinned through most of the previous mess. There had to be an upping of the stakes. Perhaps he’d jump around and shout. Perhaps he’d sing stupid love songs.

Elei felt empty as he fell back into his armchair. He should be happy for them. He didn’t know why he wasn’t. A strange feeling of betrayal turned his thoughts bitter.

Come on
, he told himself.
What is this now? Did you want Maera for yourself? Is that it? Did you intend to try and take her from Kalaes, the guy who has helped you and lost everything because of you? Who was going to buy a mattress, let you sleep in his apartment while he had one? Aren’t you disgusted with yourself?

He was. He stared at his gun stupidly. Was that the reason he felt like that? Jealousy? Pettiness?

Or did he feel left out? Pushed aside? Like the proverbial third wheel?

Hells
. He’d thought himself nobler.

But, as usual, he was wrong when it came to judging human character. Even his own.

Chapter
Seventeen

D
raped
uncomfortably on the armchair, Elei closed his eyes and tried to catch another wink before dawn broke. Then the sunlight from the window hit him square in the face and he gave up. He stood and tried to work out the kinks by stretching his arms and walking up and down. His body still wasn’t very happy with him, but Elei couldn’t complain. He’d brushed by death close enough to believe there would be no return this time — yet here he was, alive and kicking.

Elei rubbed the side of his neck and up his cheek, feeling the new tel-marks, rough snake scales that had spread there. His skin felt hot, like burning
dakron
. He stood at the window and gazed over the mountain slope at the scintillating rocks and a hint of the plain below, the light spreading wide like water.

Water
. Poena’s words echoed in his head.
Spill blood in the water
. The fountainhead and the temple. What a weird dream.

Then he remembered Maera and Kalaes. Embarrassment fought with unease, hot and cold rushing through him.
What in the hells is wrong with me?
He raked his hands through his hair and spun around. He’d take a shower. Celebrate his survival.

Scratching at the maddening, all-consuming itch on his arms, he entered the bathroom. A rusty showerhead jutted from the wall, and in a corner of the concrete floor was a drain. A stained curtain hung from hooks in the ceiling, but otherwise the room was clean.
Good enough
. A cracked mirror was mounted on the wall and he consciously opted not to look. He didn’t need to see his own accusing glare. He noticed a stool underneath the sink with a stack of folded towels. What else could anyone ask for?

He shut and locked the door, placed his gun on top of the towels and stripped. Carefully, he unwound the bandage from his waist. The wound was healing, red and tender. He stepped underneath the showerhead and turned the faucet on. Pipes creaked and groaned, then came a rushing noise and water gurgled. He let out an involuntary cry as the cold water hit him, a rain of razor blades. In his limited experience with washing, he’d never been drenched in such icy water and with such pressure. The wet rags he’d normally use to clean up just didn’t compare.

Teeth chattering, Elei scrubbed himself with his hands the best he could and washed as thoroughly as possible without a soap. Well, at least his skin was now numb and the burning sensations ceased. He hissed when he turned his face into the icy spray, and his fists clenched in reaction. Oh, gods, the things one did to get clean.

He bowed his head under the spray, letting it drench his grimy hair, and passed his hands through it, dislodging dried blood and grit. He rubbed his neck, his shoulders, his stomach. The image of Maera’s naked breasts flashed through his mind briefly, teasingly, and despite the cold he ached with desire.

Elei snarled at himself and his idiocy. He’d never even been with a woman before, not past the kissing part anyway, and he wasn’t about to start with Kalaes’ girlfriend. There would be other women, perhaps, if he got out of this mess.

The sting of the cold became too much. Screw showering. He took a step away from the spray.

His skin flared with fire, an unbearable itch that burned and ate at his flesh. With a gasp, he returned under the showerhead to find relief, hand closing over the faucet and cranking it up. The shock of the cold gave way to a need for wetness, a deep urge to fall into the water, to dissipate in it. Whispers played in his mind, images of fountains and streams gurgling down wide ditches, the water swirling in transparent eddies, bringing with it all that was dead. He saw himself fall into the streams, carried out and plummeting into sea; diving to green and blue depths, steeped in quiet.

A boom shattered the calm.

He blinked and blue radiance jumped around him, outlining each object. He rubbed his eye and took a deep breath when the brightness faded.

The booming sound came again and he became aware of loud knocking on the door.

“Dammit, Elei, are you all right in there?” Kalaes’ worried voice. “You’ve been in there for ages. Elei!”

He raised his hands and spread his fingers. His nails were a deep blue from the cold and he started to shiver all over. “I’m fine!” His clenched jaw didn’t allow more words.

Kalaes stopped trying to cave in the door and quiet fell once more.

Turning off the water, he grabbed a towel and rubbed himself roughly, more to restart circulation rather than to get dry. He forced his shaking limbs into his clothes and finally glanced at the mirror. With his fingers, he tried to straighten his short hair as much as he could, ignoring the image of his hollow cheeks and angry eyes.

But then something caught his attention and he leaned closer. If cronion was gone, instead of cronion’s dull green, his right eye ought to be the same brown color as the other one. But it wasn’t; it was a clear, light blue.

Elei frowned.
The hell?
Then his gaze caught dark spots on his neck. He pulled down his high polo-neck. New marks, small, dark and round like beads, a necklace of them.

Shaking his head, he unlocked and yanked the door open.

“Elei? What are you doing?”

He flinched. Maera stood at the opening, wrapped in a blanket, her naked shoulders round and flawless. His body got that same appropriate reaction again — or was it inappropriate, now that she was Kalaes’ girlfriend? — and he realized he was gaping. “I’m just—”

“Are you finished here? Can I use the toilet?”

Cursing inwardly, he nodded. He brushed by her on his way out and stumbled, barely avoided falling onto his face by hanging onto the door handle at the last second.

Just pissing great.
He wondered if he could make a greater fool of himself. It had to stop right there. He didn’t desire Maera. He didn’t, really didn’t.

It was his new mantra.

Then the fine hairs on his nape bristled. He whirled about.

Kalaes stared at him with a grin on his face, leaning on the door frame, arms folded over his naked chest. A pendant hung around his neck, a medallion of dull metal with a map of the seven islands. He had an old
palantin
scar on one arm, a nasty disease Elei had thankfully managed to avoid as a child, and plenty of old fight scars on his chest and forearms. It looked like, in his past, Kalaes had been stabbed, slashed and shot at quite a lot. He also had a tattoo over his heart — a circle with a star inside.

“What are you staring at, fe?” Kalaes grinned and lifted his chin. “D’you like my tattoos?”

Elei wrenched his gaze away. “Are they gang tattoos?”

Kalaes tsked. “This one is.” He placed three fingers against the three parallel lines marking his cheek. “Though I don’t have a gang anymore.”

So much for belonging to Kalaes’ gang, then.
Maera and her ideas
. Oddly disappointed, Elei stomped out and into the room where he’d spent the night. He rubbed his burning shoulders through the rough cloth of the sweater and told himself to get a grip.

Kalaes’ steps followed him. “You took a shower, huh? How was the experience?”

“It was pissing cold.”

Kalaes laughed out loud, a deep resonating sound. So, Kalaes was laughing. Check. Wait for the dance of joy, coming up next.

“Sorry, fe. I’ve never heard you say the word ‘pissing’ before. I must be rubbing off on you.”

Yeah.

“You won’t believe this, fe.”

Try me
, Elei thought darkly.

“Maera and I…”

Elei waited, heart pounding.

Kalaes just chuckled and shook his head. He played with the medallion hanging on his chest. “Um, listen. I need to thank you.”

“Thank me?”

“Yeah. All this being chased around and the stress, well, it kind of made up her mind. To have sex with me, fe.”

“You’re crazy, you know that?” An exasperated sigh left his lips, despite his best efforts. Kalaes had lost his job and his apartment and he was on the run. But he’d gotten some and now he was floating on a pink cloud.

And why not?
Elei rubbed the back of his neck.
I’ve lost everything and got no sex. At least he did, and with a pretty girl, too. The one he wanted. He has a right to be happy.

So happy he hadn’t noticed anything strange about Elei’s fast recovery, or about the strange new color of his right eye.

Elei turned to the window.

And why wouldn’t Maera make up her mind about Kalaes? He was a handsome man. Apart from his hands and the old
palantin
scar on his arm, he had no other marks of parasites that Elei had noticed. Strong shoulders, square jaw. Clean of illnesses. Probably had lots of different antibodies.
Just what a girl might want
.

“What’s this?” Kalaes came to stand beside Elei, wrinkling his nose. “Can you smell it?”

“Smell what, Kalaes?” Elei sniffed.

“Just call me Kal, all right, fe? Smells like spice. Like pepper. It must be the soap.”

Elei pursed his lips. He’d found no soap. “Nah.” He sniffed his skin and stiffened. Pepper. Spot on. Cronion and telmion didn’t smell like that. A new parasite. Everything pointed to such a conclusion.

Kalaes spun around at the sound of the bathroom door opening. “I’ll go clean myself, then let’s see what we’ve got to eat.”

Elei shook himself like a dog. He had to move, not let his mind sink into useless fears and doubts. It had always worked for him before.

He went to check and found half a bottle of water and a slice of stale blue bread. End of list. He turned the slice of bread over in his hand, hungry but not sure it was fair to eat it and leave nothing for the others.

“Hey.”

He almost dropped the bread.

Maera smirked at him. “I’m going out.”

“Where?”

“To the food store we saw on our way here” She winked. “I’ll go buy something to eat.”

He put the bread down. “That’s dangerous. Let me—”

But Maera laughed lightly and strolled out of the living room. He heard the main door click shut behind her.

“—go instead,” he finished the sentence to himself.

“Where did she go?” Kalaes said from behind his back.

Elei gasped and turned, his pulse screaming in his ears. “Gods, don’t pissing do that!”
Holy shit
. He still half-expected cronion to react, but of course nothing happened. He inhaled deeply to calm his pounding heart. “She went to buy food.”

Kalaes rubbed his eyes. “Oh. Good. Food’s good.”

He had a point. Elei’s stomach agreed quite loudly. A craving for sugar made his mouth water. He hoped Maera would bring something sweet.

“I feel as if a freight-barge hit me, fe. I’m exhausted.” Kalaes flopped into the chair where Elei had spent the night. “But you look much better. Back at the ruins, in the basement, you kept vomiting, and we couldn’t wake you, and you were burning up. It was all we could do to keep your airways clear for breathing and trickle water down your throat. Pissing scary, I tell you.”

Elei shuddered.

Kalaes pulled his knees up to his chest and rested his chin on them. The two braids hanging over his ear swung forward over his cheek. “Did you manage to remember anything, fe? About what Pelia told you?”

“No. Do you think they’ll ever stop looking for me?” The Gultur, their spies, the Fleet.

“Perhaps some day.” Kalaes shrugged. “But not any day soon.”

Elei had feared as much. With nothing else to occupy his mind, which was going around in useless circles, he picked up his gun. Methodically he took it apart and put it back together. An automatic check. Then he did it again, faster.

“Damn, you’re quick, fe.” Kalaes’ awe sounded genuine. “Looks like you know your gun. A Rasmus, isn’t it? Old model. Are you a good shot?”

Elei nodded. Cronion helped with quick reflexes and good vision. He wondered how his skill would be affected now cronion was gone, and he swallowed fear. He’d been the best of his line at the training drills of the factory convent. Probably the reason Pelia had chosen him as her driver. Maybe. That was what the monks had said.