Rex Aftermath (Elei's Chronicles)

by Thoma, Chrystalla

  “No way,” he said at the same time Alendra said, “Okay.”

  She cast him a look. “Why not?”

  He shook his head. “Fine.” He drew his gun and gave it butt-first to Iset. “But no games, or things will get ugly.” As if they’d ever been pretty.

  “Games?” Alendra echoed, clearly lost, and he wanted to explain but now was not the time.

  “After you,” Bestret said, and it took all Elei had not to punch her.

  Deep breaths.

  He turned around and Iset prodded him lightly in the back with the longgun. He reminded himself that no, it was not all right to kill her, no matter what Rex yelled in his ear, and let her guide him toward the tall gates, glancing over his shoulder to make sure Bestret and Alendra were following.

  Other Gultur crossed their path, turning their heads but not stopping. One was an Echo and he had to close his eyes for a moment to control his body before he leaped at her and cut her down.

  “What will you do, my King?” Poena tugged on his pant leg and he wanted to scream at her to let go. “As before, I’ll guide you to your task.”

  “Don’t,” he mumbled, his eyes stinging. “No.” Because the last time she’d done it, right there in Bone Tower, he’d almost died.

  He wanted to live. He wanted to kiss Alendra again, go with Kalaes for drinks, have a job and live... a life. A quiet and peaceful one.

  The metal gates opened outward into a yard lit by strong spotlights. Aircars were parked at regular intervals and Iset pushed him toward the other end. The last vehicle in the line.

  “Senet.” A Gultur nodded in their direction, pushing up her visor as she headed toward the police station, and raised a hand in a fist. “Em hotep.”

  “Em hotep.” Iset returned the greeting, not breaking stride, so that the gun poked firmly in his bruised ribs and sent a mist of red before his eyes.

  Killkillkill. His elbow was already moving back, aiming at Iset’s plexus, when she stepped around him and tugged on the ladder attached to the aircar.

  “Let’s get inside,” she said and Elei blinked, Rex stuttering, caught by surprise by the fact that Iset wasn’t trying to kill him.

  Grabbing the ladder, he climbed up to the deck, twisting around as soon as his feet hit the floor, but Iset only stood by his side and bent to check the door lock. It hissed open.

  Elei watched her enter, waited until Alendra and Bestret came up and entered too.

  “Elei?” Alendra gestured for him to join them.

  “What will you do, King?” Poena whispered, crouched by his booted feet. “You are who you are. You can only be who you are meant to be.”

  More riddles. He stepped inside, conscious someone might be watching, but stayed by the door.

  Erase the temple, Rex whispered and Poena spoke the same words, an echo. His head throbbed. Blow it up, let the world see. If anyone can do this, you can. You promised. You began this. Fail us now and fail the whole world. Can you live with that?

  “Oh Nunet.” Bestret opened the driver’s door and sat, searching for the ignition key. “They told us the attack on Dakru City is doomed. They said help will come from Bone Tower — helicopters with cannons and Attalids. They announced on every open channel that they have you and will sacrifice you.” She bowed her dark head. “We have failed.”

  “You haven’t,” he heard himself say. “Not yet,” and Poena nodded thoughtfully, pressed to his leg, a thumb stuck in her mouth.

  “What do you mean?” Iset sounded annoyed. “The attack is doomed to fail. We have not been able to create the distraction we’d planned.”

  I don’t want to do it, dammit, I don’t want to.

  “Do you have the explosives?” His mouth seemed to be working without his will, and yet... My promise. My responsibility. Could have been anyone’s — but it’s mine.

  “Yes,” Iset said. “Why?”

  “I need them.”

  “Elei?” Alendra said, her voice hoarse, and she came to stand right before him. “Tell me what’s going on.”

  Ally, Rex whispered and he wanted to hug her close.

  Not now.

  “Come,” Iset said and started toward the back of the aircar. She opened a compartment built behind the seats and dragged a backpack out. Shoved it toward him. “What are you thinking?”

  He opened the bag, glanced at the power packed inside, closed it again. Hefted it over one shoulder. “Drive away. Get Alendra out of here, find Kalaes and the kids, and go as far as possible. I’ll do this.”

  “Do what?” Alendra muttered behind him, sounding horrified.

  “Just be safe,” he said. “Find Kalaes. Go home.”

  It hurt, but Rex hummed happily, lessening the pain.

  “You can’t,” Alendra said, her voice rising. “I won’t let you, you can’t do this!”

  Bestret dragged her into the cabin and dumped her in a seat. “He can. He’s Rex. If anyone can, it’s him.”

  “He’s Elei, he’s just a boy, you can’t expect—”

  “I have to go,” he said, regretting he hadn’t had the chance to kiss Alendra again.

  “Don’t do it, Elei.” Alendra struggled in Bestret’s grip. Bestret held her down, but Alendra twisted until her hand was free and she reached out to him. “Ignore what they’ve told you. Dammit, Elei, don’t do it. Come with me.”

  “I have to take down the temple,” he said, Poena grinning up at him. “It’s the only way to turn the odds.” His eyes stung, because, dammit, he didn’t want to do this, but he bit his lip and turned slowly toward the aircar door.

  “I swear by the gods,” Alendra said, still struggling, “if you die, I’ll find you and haunt you for all eternity.”

  “You’ll have to stand in line.” So many ghosts. He sighed as he stepped outside and grabbed the ladder, lowering himself onto the first rung. Many dead and undead haunted him already. “But I hope you’ll stay alive,” he whispered, so low it might have been in his mind.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “They’re waiting for you at the temple,” Poena said, chewing on a strand of blond hair. “Waiting for the ceremonial guards to deliver you to their altar.”

  Elei nodded. The sacrifice. To be transmitted directly to the giant screens in Dakru City.

  They’d get a sacrifice worth their wait.

  Hidden in the shadow of the aircar, he crouched low while a group of five Gultur passed by and vanished inside the building. Crossing the police station would be impossible without killing everyone inside. He’d have to make his way around.

  Kill them all, Rex hissed.

  Yeah, yeah.

  Damn, he’d never make it to the temple in one piece in this mayhem. He had to move silently, like a ghost.

  “I’m the ghost,” Poena whispered in his ear. “Not you.”

  He wasn’t so sure anymore.

  Rex swept the yard — red, yellow, green, blue. Ah there. The fence had an opening. A gate, most likely, and right now it stood wide open.

  How long before the Gultur guards realized their prisoners were gone and the monitoring room empty? They probably knew it already.

  “Hurry,” Poena said and he rose, lifting the backpack.

  He’d have to go prepared.

  Opening the bag, he pulled out a few tubes of explosive. Eyed them, then set to strapping them around his middle, stuffing some in his pockets. It’d have to do. He let his t-shirt and jacket drape over them.

  Good to go.

  He wiped his sweat-slicked palms on his pants and glanced around the vehicle he hid behind.

  Clear.

  Crouching low, he ran between aircars, using them as cover, the explosives weighing him down. He pulled the straps of the backpack over his shoulders and peered at the open gate.

  A Gultur was waving someone out of the yard — a long, sleek military aircar. It hovered next to the police station, an amalgam of cool greens and bright, pulsing red and orange. The engines, hot and humming.

  He crept a
round another aircar and sprinted until he was behind the waiting vehicle. The nepheline air-cushion was at shoulder height. He pulled himself onto it, arms straining, the explosives digging in, and he hoped they wouldn’t go off with the pressure.

  Dragging himself up, he crouched next to the engine, between the huge twin fans, and waited. Poena stood by his side, the currents blowing through her, her golden locks still and perfect on her small shoulders. She winked.

  It occurred to him he was now officially mad, and snorted. Inevitable. Bound to happen sooner or later.

  Full circle.

  Let Alendra and Kalaes be okay, let Hera and Sacmis escape. Let them survive the regime.

  The aircar lurched forward and he grabbed the edge of the fan not to fall off. They passed through the gate, two Gultur waving them on, and hovered for a moment as it clanked shut behind them, then moved along an avenue lined with trees and tall buildings, their moonstone facades glowing.

  Midnight had passed. He wondered what was happening in Dakru City.

  The park loomed on one side, and taking a deep breath, he jumped off. He rolled on the asphalt, his side and shoulder hot blazes of pain.

  Get up.

  Checking the explosives were still strapped on, weighing his belt, he shouldered the backpack and staggered to the cover of the trees.

  The temple glimmered on the top of the hill. Three enormous rectangular objects had been placed in front of the giant urns, supported on metallic arms.

  “Screens,” Poena said. “Feedback loop. They’re transmitting to Dakru City, and Dakru City is broadcasting the battle.”

  “And how would you know?” Elei muttered irritably, tugging on the straps of the pack that bit into his chest. The avenue was empty, the sky endless. He could drown in its darkness.

  She shrugged, skipping ahead. “It’s your guess.”

  The steep road to the temple should have been familiar but that stretch was the blackest hole in his memories. He vaguely recalled Kalaes calling his name, the scent of flowers on the air. And the carved pool with the temple rising overhead, like a full moon.

  It had been weeks ago. It felt like yesterday.

  Poena turned and waited, hands on hips, blond head tilted. She looked like a miniature Alendra and his chest constricted. Alendra would hate him for this, he knew, but at least she’d live, and if all went well — that made him chuckle, because, yeah, ‘well’ for who? — then she’d live in a world with less violence and more beauty.

  Clenching his jaw, he patted the explosives strapped to his waist and stood still at the foot of the hill.

  “Let’s do this,” he said. “Ready?”

  “When you are,” Poena whispered and started up the road, her yellow dress fluttering.

  ***

  A Seleukid swooped down like a hawk, releasing a missile, and an explosion rocked the war machine.

  “Damn them,” Hera muttered, fighting to stabilize the metal tower they currently inhabited. Between the rockets from the other war machine, the fleet and the artillery parked at the gates, they would not last much longer, even if the Bone Tower fleet did not arrive.

  Give up. Let go.

  No.

  Elei and Alendra were not dead yet. The kids of Teos. The kids of the whole world. They depended on her. Kalaes was gone, and the thought twisted her heart, but she would not let his death be for nothing.

  The giant screens flickered at the edge of her vision. A commentator appeared, calmly describing what was happening, talking with someone.

  As the battle raged.

  They had no fear of this one little war machine, Hera thought, trampling an aircar and turning the tower around so Sacmis could take a shot at the remaining Seleukids. They did not care how many of their own died; they had no doubt about the outcome.

  But she would not stop. For Elei. For Alendra. She had to get them back. She had no idea how, but she’d find a way.

  Gods help her, she’d get them back.

  ***

  A booming noise came from speakers alongside the giant screens, the sound traveling down to the steep trail Elei followed — voices, shouts, and what sounded like cannons firing, rockets hitting and crashing into buildings.

  War.

  Blood.

  Killing.

  Poena walked with him, muttering.

  His boots thumped dully on the paved road, sending shocks up his aching side and back. The stitches pulled. Circling back to where he’d started, with the ghost of a dead girl guiding him. Which meant this might be a dream, but then he wouldn’t hurt so much, would he?

  Poena hummed a tune under her breath, small fingers tap-tapping on the air. She glanced sideways at him and lifted her chin. “Almost there.”

  Almost to the other side of sanity. “Right.”

  He checked the ignition hooks on the tubes around his waist. Just one hard pull and he’d go up like a flare. Wincing at the thought, he pulled the hem of his t-shirt back down and kept climbing the hill.

  Water trickled by the side of the road, over cool stone and into the roots of trees. A fresh mist rose in the night air, the scent reminding him of Alendra.

  The pang of regret in his chest rivaled the pain in his side.

  A patrol was coming down the street from the temple. He’d barely caught the flash of gold on their chests when he scooted behind a hedge and waited, heart in mouth, until they thumped by, descended the hill and vanishing among the buildings of the citadel.

  Elei rose unsteadily, the explosives heavier by the minute.

  Poena peeked from behind a tree and winked. “This way. We’ll go in from the back.” She rolled her eyes when he didn’t move immediately.

  “Good idea,” he whispered, feeling a thousand years old as he dragged his feet once more up the slope. “On my way.”

  The trail wound alongside the road, among bushes and slender trees. Night birds trilled, insects buzzed, a distant chant sounded, and all the while a wind of knives poured like a river downhill, stinging his cheeks and hands, blurring his eyes.

  Through the trees he could see the temple on the summit of the hill. Spotlights lit its outer walls, reflecting off the white marble of the sculpted urns and the statues, the pillars that seemed to blossom at the top, where they sustained the sloped roof. Deep gold shone — tall silhouettes moving toward the steps that ran between the marble pools.

  How would he get past the temple guards? He hadn’t thought that far ahead.

  He stumbled over a stone in the shadows, jostling his backpack and its unstable cargo. His knees buckled, dragging him down.

  Shhh, Rex breathed. Not far now.

  Funny that the parasite didn’t seem to mind he was set on getting himself killed. Wasn’t it going to try and stop him?

  Had he secretly hoped it would?

  Elei shook his head. Was he not only mad, but a coward, as well? Dammit.

  He straightened, gritting his teeth. Almost there. He dragged his feet up the trail, higher and higher. Poena skipped from tree to tree, giggling. The leaves rustled overhead, and when he looked up, their silvery shapes danced against the night sky like clouds of insects.

  Keep moving.

  The guards came into view, posted at the temple steps. They were wore long flowing mantles and their helmets were mounted with feathers or wings, hard to tell when Rex only showed him pulsing outlines.

  Poena hooked her finger, glancing over her bony little shoulder, hurrying away from the grand staircase, moving with a purpose. What could he do but hurry after her slender form, her fluttering yellow dress and dark hair, the scrunching of dead leaves underfoot and his harsh panting the only sounds.

  When he broke out from the cover of the trees, he realized he was almost at the back of the temple. Above him rose the great urns, and a staircase led up, winding between the enormous vats, much narrower and steeper than the main entrance to the temple.

  Perfect.

  He started up, aware the patrol might pass any second on their rounds.
He used the smooth marble rim of the urns for support, leaving smears of blood. Damn, he’d busted the stitches on his arm.

  The scent of the water wafted over him as he climbed. He glanced over the side. Yellow blobs of warmth floated on the calm surface. The scent told him it was flowers. In the water lived Regina, the parasite that made the Gultur race.

  We meet again.

  The steps ended and a platform opened before him. He stopped to catch his breath. Among the blossoming pillars and statues, female forms moved. Gultur, some of them Echoes. Their scent wound around him, inside him, raising his pulse until it roared in his ears.

  “To the altar,” Poena whispered. Odd how he could still hear her when all other sound had faded.

  The altar. At the center of the platform stood a stone table with a fire burning, flanked by two Gultur holding lit torches.

  The sound of shouts and gunshots came from the speakers, and he twisted to look at the three screens bordering the temple. Mounted on fifteen feet high metal pedestals, the monstrous monitors showed a view of Dakru City. Rubble, fires, thick smoke rising. A war machine rolling on a street, a metal tower studded with cannons, firing.

  “The rebel forces have managed to breach the city wall,” the voice of a presenter said, neutral and pleasantly deep for a woman. “However, Bone Tower is sending the sacred fleet of the temple to assist us. A war machine cannot prevail against the famed Attalids, the anointed air force of the citadel, which you can see above the temple, ready for take off.”

  Attalids. Belonging to the temple of Regina, which was right there, under his feet. Unique airplanes — deadly, sacred and anointed.

  Wait a minute... Above the temple?

  He looked up and hissed a curse. What he’d taken for statues and gargoyles on the roof were planes. Their front was carved into the shape of sharp-fanged beasts with crests and their wings seemed to be made of bone and cartilage with membranes stretched between them. They even had tails — long and barbed.

  They looked alive. Did that tail move?

  No, dammit. Breathe. He bent his pounding head and sucked a hitching breath. Damn you, Rex, are you the one doing this?