“He’s going to crash through the gates.” Kalaes grunted. “Hera, hold tight!”
The gates loomed before them, above them, enormous, oblong, carved with scenes from the ascent of the gods and the tortures of the deepest hell, deep in the ocean, complete with monsters and evil sea demons, devouring the damned. The gods hovered above the rippling waters.
Water.
Elei set the aircar on a collision course. It crashed through the gates, tearing them open.
His head snapped forward and hit the control board.
Darkness.
Chapter Twenty-Four
“This is typical behavior.” The voice tickled Elei’s senses, smooth and low — a woman’s familiar voice. “Rex is mature now and will push him to extremes to infect others. Trust me, I have studied all these kinds of parasites. Stay with him.”
“He’s out, fe, don’t worry. Let me try to get you out of there first.”
Warm liquid trickled down Elei’s face. Scent of copper. Blood.
“No. Kalaes, do not let him out of your sight. Rex wants to infect. I’m afraid… I think Elei will try to sacrifice himself.”
“They’ll probably kill him before he manages that, fe; they’ll kill us all.”
He heard the words their voices formed, but couldn’t understand them.
“They’re not prepared for this. They do not have many battle-worthy vehicles and will need time to regroup. Besides,” she clucked her tongue, “I notified the Undercurrent.”
“When?”
“In Tisis, when I went with Maera to get the food. She went out, probably to give the Fleet our position, and I used the hotel’s net to send an emergency code. If we’re lucky, they’re on their way to help us.”
“Do you really think they’ll come into Bone Tower for us?”
“I sent a code red. Extremely important information is at stake. They’ll come.”
A grunt. “Dammit, fe, this seat won’t budge. Push with me, I’ve got to get you free.” He grunted again. “So what about the Fleet? Won’t they come and gun us down before help arrives?”
“That’s my main concern. We have to get out of here fast.”
Elei groaned as he sat up, his body burning inside and out. Blood ran down one side of his face from a gash on the forehead, and from his nose, dribbling between his lips. He licked them.
When he gripped the backrest and pushed himself to his feet, pain ripped through his body and head. The world grayed.
He found himself leaning against the console. Hot needles dug into his back. Molten metal flowed in his veins, carving his body from the inside.
Die, Elei, die.
With his fingertips he wiped the blood from his nostrils. He had to… Had to… The door. Go out. Find the water.
He stumbled to the door, grabbed the handle.
“Elei! Stop, dammit. Don’t go out!” Kalaes. “They’ll kill you. We’ve got to fix the vehicle and leave now.”
Elei ignored him and pushed the door open to the early evening. Dogs barked as he jumped out onto the marble platform. Then, gunfire. Instinctively he rolled as bullets glanced off the aircar’s sides and ripped the air around him. He raced around the vehicle, bracing himself. Bullets ricocheted and a line of fire etched itself into his arm.
He crouched low, waiting. The air was sweet with moisture and the scent of flowers, wet earth and grass. Elei inhaled and knew which way to go. The water called him like a cool touch in his mind.
When the rain of bullets slowed, he sprinted toward the first building in sight, a domed house. He broke the window with his gun, reached inside for the handle. As the rat-tat-tat of gunfire sounded again, he unlatched the window and fell inside, groaning as his shoulder flared with fresh pain. Crouching against the wall, his breathing the loudest sound in his ears, he glanced at the desk and shelves lining the walls, filled with boxes, and saw her.
He aimed his gun at the sole occupant of the room, a Gultur.
She sat in a tall-backed chair with red leather armrests. She held herself still and straight, gaze fixed on Elei’s face and a longgun trained on his head. Her blue eyes glinted like steel, and her red hair, gathered in a tall ponytail, fell on her shoulders where medals gleamed. Her chest was a deep, pulsing orange, tipped with blue, like a flame.
Elei frowned and gripped his gun tighter, his gut twisting, his mind clearing enough to realize where he was and what he was doing.
He’d entered the sacred Gultur citadel. And this woman… He knew her face from somewhere. That red hair, those medals… the newsprint he’d read when he’d first arrived to Artemisia.
She was Nekut, head of the Gultur investigations department, sworn to crack down and smother the Undercurrent movement.
Hells. He’d broken into the police department of the citadel. Just how much worse could his luck get?
But his thoughts began to fray as agony shot through his limbs. Water.
Her smell of fruit and flowers, the scent of Gultur women, wafted through the room, intensifying, twining around his neck like a noose, drawing him. He tightened his fingers around his gun handle to regain control. But control was impossible.
“I trust,” she said, brows drawn together, her gun steady, “that you shall put down your guns and bow away slowly. For if you do not, the guards coming in now will blow you to pieces.”
But she was wrong in trusting. Burning. Thirst. Find water. Nothing could stop him from locating the fountain.
He lowered the gun and supported it on his drawn-in knee. Rex sent shivers down his spine. “They’ll be too late.”
“You’re making—“
He fired at her chest and her stunned eyes stopped blinking. Taking his eyes off the blood that sprouted on her pale blouse, as another face, a woman with crimson blooms on her chest filled his thoughts, he rose on wobbly legs. His arms trembled with fatigue. Water, find water. He had to move, move now! Do it, dammit.
His legs heavy, he stumbled out of the room into a dim corridor with rooms opening on either side. With his back to the wall as much as possible, he shuffled through the building, any noise sending him to hide behind pillars and marble counters.
Then Gultur scent surrounded him again, sugar sweet and flower spice, and his gut clenched. He fired before he even took good aim, and a statue exploded into fragments. Bullets grazed the pillar he hid behind, zipped by his head. He fired again and the leaden hail stopped.
He spotted a metal door and inched toward it. He thought of shooting the lock, then tried the handle. Unlocked. Licking dry lips, he exited, half-crouching, his gun on the ready, and plunged into a different world.
It was so unexpected, it stopped him in his tracks.
Joyful daylight danced on gleaming surfaces. A small garden with red and yellow flowers stretched to his right, a tall tree with needle-shaped leaves shaded a stone-built well. Gray cats rested on a green fence, like fluffy pillows. Low, white houses in neat rows rolled to his left. A woman was combing her golden hair, sitting on a low wooden bench. Two young girls dressed in shimmering blue dresses played with a rope in the smooth street.
Water trickled down stone walls, into round ponds, flowed in canals, reflecting every ray. Blue light rippled on every plane, every edge, causing the world to dance. Water.
The street climbed upward. A tall and narrow temple of sparkling white stone crowned the citadel. Huge statues guarded its entrance. Water fountained and jets of spray danced high into the air.
There. Fire washed down his back to his thighs and calves. Go!
He ran upslope, searching with his gaze for suspect movement. Somewhere at his back shots went off and the whiff of smoke reached his nostrils. Kalaes and Hera, were they still alive? Fire spread on his back, down his thighs, deep in his chest. Water. Nothing else mattered.
A woman was crossing the street, black hair catching the light in blue streaks, when he ran past. She cried out in fear. He held back his fire, unwilling to attract more attention. He shoved her aside and ran
on, his vision splotched with blackness. The temple dwarfed him, rising like a mountain over his head. He had to climb up, make it to the water. Come on.
“Elei!” Kalaes was running upslope toward him, a dark apparition in the golden light. “Come back, dammit!”
The water fountained into a gigantic urn. Its outer wall was made of that same white stone. Crystals in its texture sparkled and blinked. Marble. Slippery and smooth, it looked like a hell of a climb — but across its surface enormous friezes of battles and fish-tailed heroes rising from the waves were carved; an uneven surface he could use. He sheathed his gun and licked his dry lips. Glancing over one shoulder, he checked on Kalaes’ progress. He was just a few meters away.
With a deep breath, Elei reached up to clutch at a sea monster’s tail and hauled himself onto the outer shell of the fountain. His hands sought purchase on the smooth rock, his fingers buried themselves in engravings and caught on sculpted shapes and he climbed higher and higher toward the water that splashed and gurgled above.
Kalaes cursed below.
The scent of water wafted to Elei’s nostrils and his vision tunneled, focusing on the goal of his climb, the rim of the great urn. Sounds faded as he clambered on, clinging to the rock. As the rim loomed above him, the sheer marble surface almost defeated him, but he ground his teeth and clawed at the rock wall, finally finding a crevice that allowed him to haul himself upward. He thought he heard his name being yelled and a coldness gripped his heart — had Kalaes fallen? — but he didn’t dare turn to look. One slip and he’d fall. Not acceptable, not before he was in the water.
He threw one leg over the edge and lay on his belly, flat on the wide rim. Panting, he gazed down at the citadel houses, the city wall and the whole of the island of Dakru. White sprawls of cities and towns glowed faintly in the distance. Somewhere far, at the horizon, shimmered the blue band of the sea.
Spray tickled his face where the water burst out of the fanged mouths of fish and splashed into the urn. He turned his face toward the fine mist. Here. At last. He rose unsteadily on the ledge, pulled out his gun and pressed it into his belly. Blood. Into the water.
Someone grabbed his ankles and yanked his feet from under him. He slammed onto the fountain rim, distantly feeling the impact on his back, and his shot went wild. A frieze exploded overhead, on a temple pillar.
Kalaes rose over the rim. He threw a leg over the ledge and sprawled, panting. “Don’t do it, Elei,” he rasped as he grabbed onto Elei’s ankles. “We’ll find another way.”
“Let go of me!” Elei snarled and reloaded. Kalaes’ face twisted in a grimace. His brows lifted and his mouth opened. He was saying something, but Elei couldn’t hear.
He angled the Rasmus down and fired twice into his thigh. His whole body jerked and his vision went black, then white. As the colors returned, one by one — red, blue, green — lightning hit his nerves and sent lights flashing around him. He hissed. An inferno spread through his thigh, eating at his flesh. The water. Get into the water. Spill blood into the water.
Kalaes’s hold had relaxed. Elei strained against the loosened grip, jaw locked tightly against the pain, and turned toward the water. He stared down at it. Golden fireflies were dancing on its surface, and silver fish jumped and dived, leaving behind them brilliant trails. The temple writhed above like a giant opening his arms, his dark mouth.
He kicked out at the hands holding him down and twisted his body to bend over the fountain. His momentum dragged them both down. They hit the water like stones, breaking through with an earsplitting splash, and went under, into the deep quiet vault.
Released, he tumbled alone, weightless, somersaulting in the water. Light fractured on the surface above, broke into golden squares that rippled and danced. Beautiful. The cold numbed the pain. Elei sank lower, fingertips trailing on the smooth marble walls. Bubbles escaped his mouth.
Streaks of red rose from his leg, dissipating into pink clouds. His chest pounded, his pulse deafening in his ears. He opened his mouth to breathe and inhaled water. He choked and flailed. He tried to swim up, toward the bright surface, but couldn’t rise. He fought the reflex of breathing and his lungs burned. Blood swirled around him, tinting the water crimson. Is it enough? His body twitched and he raised his face to the light.
Hands dug into his shoulders and hauled him up and up, in an endless ascent. He broke the surface and cold air slapped his face. He sputtered, swallowed more water and sank again.
A hand dragged him back up. “Elei, dammit to the five hells, come on!” Kalaes held Elei’s head above the churning water where he gasped and coughed. “We have to go, they’re coming!”
He coughed and coughed, water coming out of his mouth and nose, stinging. Go where? “Let them.” More bullets, more blood into the water.
“No! Come on! You’ve done enough.”
Had he?
The sound of an aircar engine split the air. They’re here.
Kalaes pushed him up onto the broad marble rim, underneath the stinging fall of water. Elei’s numb fingers dragged on the rough surface, leaving red trails. Something lifted his foot — Kalaes was giving him a leg up. He flopped on the rim, panting.
With a grunt, Kalaes heaved himself up and scooted next to Elei. “It’s Hera. She got the aircar running again. Come.”
Hera?
The aircar hovered before the fountain and Kalaes pulled him to his feet. Behind the vehicle three more hovered, humming. Gunshots ripped through the air. A bullet caught Elei in the side, another in the chest. The impacts rattled his bones and teeth. Pressing his hand against the new wound in his side, he felt the hot blood pumping out, washing into the fountain with the spray of water.
Done. Relief filled him. Completion. Absolution.
Kalaes’ hold on him tightened. “Stay with me, fe. We’ll make it out of here. You hear me?”
A chuckle rose in Elei’s throat like a sob. “Yeah sure.”
“Come on.” Kalaes grabbed him around the waist and dragged him onto the deck of the aircar. “Climb in.”
The aircar provided some cover from the bullets. Hera leaned out, grabbed Elei’s arm and pulled him inside. He sprawled on the seat and the world exploded into white light and noise when the nepheline pressed on the fire of his wounds.
“Good to see you, Hera!” Kalaes shouted, scrambling inside, next to Elei.
She flipped the power switch. “Good to see you both.” The engines roared as they took off high and swerved behind the temple to avoid the gunfire. She shouted over the noise, “When you jumped out after him, I was not sure I would see either of you again.”
The aircar shook with small impacts.
“You were right. They didn’t expect anyone to crash into their citadel.” Kalaes closed and barred the door. He turned around. “Who are the other three aircars?”
“Undercurrent. They got my message.”
Kalaes’ voice softened. “How did you make it out? I left you pinned between the seat and the control panel.”
“I managed to wiggle out. I’m quite flexible.” Hera snorted. “The dogs were barking at the door, but they could smell I was Gultur. The others stopped shooting, came to investigate. It bought me the time to get the take off sequence running…”
Her words faded. Someone shook Elei’s shoulder and the sound rushed back in. He heard his name and he blinked, trying to clear his eyes. Red filled his vision. A metallic tang filled his mouth. He licked his lips. Blood. So thirsty. Blood everywhere.
Kalaes leaned over him, brows drawn together. He unglued Elei’s jacket, opened it and hissed. “Dammit, fe, you’re riddled with bullet holes!” Cursing, he pulled up Elei’s t-shirt and prodded areas of varying degrees of pain. “Pissing frigid hells.”
Elei whimpered. He was wrapped in a dull, distant, all-encompassing pain — but whenever Kalaes touched his skin, the pain sharpened like a blade cutting through him. Darkness framed everything, waiting to swallow the world.
“Elei. Can you hear me?�
� Kalaes pulled off his own t-shirt, tore it into strips and began bandaging Elei’s thigh. “Nothing looks broken, but, hells, you’re too keen on killing yourself.”
“I told you, it was Rex doing that, not him.” Hera sounded angry. “Rex was trying to spread.”
“Yeah, I know.”
The pain was fading, and so was the world. “Blood in the water,” Elei muttered, his body light, made of air, floating.
“You spilled a great deal of it into the fountain, fe. So if that’s what Rex wanted, you can relax now.”
Relax. Elei’s vision blurred. He couldn’t feel his body anymore. Talking was becoming hard. “I’m cold.”
“Son of a bitch.” Kalaes grabbed Elei’s chin, forced it up. “We’re going into hiding. We’ll make it. Stay with me, fe. Stay with me!” His dark eyes swam in Elei’s vision.
“I can’t,” Elei tried to say, but wasn’t sure he made it.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Despite her intense focus on avoiding missiles from the now activated watchtower as they flew out of the citadel, Hera felt the waves of tension radiating off Kalaes who sat in the back seat with Elei. Worse still, she knew why.
“How bad is it?”
Kalaes said nothing. His silence presaged nothing good. Glancing in the rearview mirror, she saw his dark head, bent over Elei. He kept pressure on Elei’s chest and side and avoided her gaze. The younger boy’s face was ashen and blood had dried in a black crust on his lips and cheek. Dammit, he could easily pass for dead.
That was not acceptable. Hera hated the way her chest constricted at the thought of Elei dying. She considered her options. She’d visited Bone Tower before and knew the routes in the mountains. Behind them, a pursuit squadron of seleukids was assembling. The distraction offered by the other Undercurrent aircars could only do so much.
Time to say goodbye, sisters.
Accelerating, she set the course north and sent the small aircar down slippery dirt roads between hamlets and abandoned mines.
“We have to find a hospital,” she said. “He’ll need blood transfusion, at the very least. I know a place in Teos, at the northern coast.”
Elei's Chronicles (Books 1-3) Page 23