Rex Rising (Elei's Chronicles)

by Chrystalla Thoma

  Maera pointed the longgun at Kalaes. “Drop your gun, Kal.” Her voice trembled.

  And he never thought Maera would be so strong. She’d known Kalaes for so long. Hells. He’d destroyed them both.

  “Please, Maera…” Kalaes stared into her face, jaw clenched so that his voice came strained. “Believe me.”

  “You got a biotransmitter in your body, for the gods’ sakes, Kal!” She sounded hysterical. She sounded like Elei felt. Tears rolled down her cheeks.

  Kalaes turned his face away. “Damn you all.”

  “What now?” Elei asked, unable to think. His chest was so tight he could barely breathe.

  “Take his gun,” Maera said.

  Elei did, passed it in his belt next to his own holstered gun. “And?”

  “Kill the transmitter.” Hera took a tiny knife from her belt. Elei wondered what other weapons she hid on her body.

  Kalaes’ eyes looked glazed. He didn’t move when Hera sliced through his pants and cut out a square patch, revealing the pale flesh underneath. He didn’t make any sound when the blade jabbed into his thigh, though Elei scrambled toward them with a gasp, certain she’d hurt him. She must have. Shit.

  Hera pulled out the blade. She’d cut him deep. Blood spurted from the wound. The transmitter hung on the point of the blade, a bead dripping crimson.

  Elei swallowed hard, nauseous.

  “They’re easy to insert,” she muttered. “Gultur transmitter, fine and long as a needle. Once in, it bunches up and starts transmitting.”

  She jerked the blade, throwing the gray blob to the ground, and then stepped on it, squishing it.

  All Elei could hear was Kalaes’ harsh breathing. Shock. He’s in shock, Elei thought. He squatted next to the older boy and pressed his hand on the wound to stop the bleeding.

  “Press here,” he told him, and when nothing happened, he took Kalaes’ limp hand and pressed down on the bloody cut. Once he was sure Kalaes kept some pressure there, he tore the rest of Kalaes’ pant leg and wrapped it tightly in a makeshift bandage around Kalaes’ thigh.

  Satisfied Kalaes wasn’t bleeding to death, he took the dakron cube and wrapped it back in the surin film. He put it back into his gun and shut it, but didn’t lift it. He sat with his head down. From the corner of his eye, he saw Kalaes’ lips tremble momentarily, then press together tight.

  “Why didn’t you just hand me over to the Gultur?” he whispered.

  Kalaes said nothing, didn’t look up.

  “To find out about the shipment,” Hera snapped. “The cure.”

  “If he had the transmitter all along,” Elei turned to Hera, searching her face for any emotion, “why would it take so long for the Fleet to find us every time?”

  “Magnetite deposits in the plain,” Hera said, gaze flat and empty. “They have a natural scattering effect on the signal. They interfere.”

  Maera lowered the longgun. She held it one-handedly at her side. Her eyes glittered with new tears. “Why, Kal? How could you do this?”

  Kalaes still said nothing.

  It made no sense. If Kalaes collaborated with the Gultur, why would he give himself away?

  It wasn’t helping that Kalaes was silent. His face was deathly white.

  “Was it money?” Hera stood before him. “Was it a position in the spy hierarchy?”

  Maera wiped her eyes and sat down. “Did you have Elei followed since he left Ost? Were you in contact with the Ost team?”

  “Maera, you knew him for so long.” Elei tried to understand. “Could we be wrong?”

  “Gods, Elei.” She pressed the heel of one small hand against her brow, grimacing. “I hope so, but what about the transmitter in his leg?” She sighed. “I only came back to Aerica two months ago. I thought I knew him. I still can’t believe it.”

  But you slept with him, Elei accused her in his mind, and bit his lip because that was none of his business. He told himself to get rid of this pettiness and jealousy. Especially now. Maera had to feel so betrayed. Hells, he did and he barely knew Kalaes.

  “What else did you tell them, Kalaes?” Hera asked.

  “Say something,” Elei whispered and squeezed Kalaes’ shoulder. “Come on, speak. We need to know. Do you have a contact in Dakru City?”

  Kalaes turned to him, eyes wide. “No. No, I don’t. I didn’t do it.”

  Elei’s breath came out in a whistle. “Maybe he didn’t—”

  “Damn lies!” Hera hissed. “You betrayed us all.”

  “I wouldn’t.” Kalaes’ voice shook. “I’m with the Undercurrent too.”

  “What?” Elei’s head buzzed. He shifted to look at Kalaes better. His face was blank, but his eyes blazed.

  Maera’s eyes widened.

  “If you were, I would know!” Hera’s hands fisted. “I answer directly to the Undercurrent Council. What is the codeword?”

  “Question,” Kalaes whispered.

  Hera folded her arms across her chest. “Wrong answer. You’re out of the game.”

  “I said, if you want the right codeword,” Kalaes said, “you’d better give me the right question.”

  Hera frowned, glanced at Elei and Maera and hesitated. With a shrug, she rose, went to Kalaes and knelt next to him. Gripping his two small braids, she drew his face closer to hers until their cheeks almost touched and whispered something in his ear. Then she turned her head to listen and his lips almost brushed her neck when he answered.

  Elei bent his head. In his enhanced hearing, their hushed voices rang loud and clear, although a sideways glance at Maera’s stormy face revealed she could hear nothing. Hera had asked where Kalaes went for drinks at night, of all strange things to ask, and he replied he frequented a bar in Artemisia recommended by his cousin Dione. Coded language for sure.

  He looked up when Hera gasped softly. Rising, she turned and went to lean against a stalk, folding her arms over her breasts. “Interesting game you play.”

  All right. Elei rubbed the bridge of his nose. It looks like Kalaes knows the codeword. But where does that leave us?

  Maera watched Hera with bright eyes. “Did he give the codeword? Does that mean he’s innocent?”

  “Innocent?” Hera spat on the ground and wiped her mouth. “Senet, he had a Gultur biotransmitter in his damned thigh! He was signaling your position ever since you left Aerica, bright as a beacon at sea.”

  Blood seeped from the bandage, between Kalaes’ fingers, and his breathing sounded fast and erratic. Elei scooted closer, leaned over and pressed Kalaes’ hand harder on the small wound. “Keep the pressure.”

  Kalaes gave no indication he’d heard him.

  “What do we do now?” Maera asked.

  Elei’s head ached, a hammer pounding behind his eyes. Dawn was not far off. He looked around at the others’ haggard faces and made a decision. “We’ll rest for an hour or two before we move on.”

  He expected Maera or Hera to protest, but they didn’t. They looked exhausted.

  “I’ll keep watch.” Maera got up, the longgun held loosely in her hand.

  Kalaes stared at her back for some time, fear and desperation lighting his gaze. When he lowered his face, there was no emotion to be seen there anymore.

  “It’s okay, I’ll do it. You sleep.” Elei nodded at her. “I need to think.”

  “But Kalaes—”

  “We should tie him.” Hera frowned. “If not, he can run away or take us out if you nod off.”

  Elei raised his hand to stop her. “How will you tie him?”

  She produced a small roll of duct tape from her suit.

  “Give it here.” He didn’t trust her not to be brutal. He took the tape in shaky hands, mind rolling like a loose pebble, and proceeded to tie Kalaes’ hands and feet. There was something very wrong in seeing Kalaes at the point of a gun, getting tied up like some animal going to slaughter. It was wrong to see that blankness on his normally expressive face.

  But he’d had the biotransmitter. No matter what he said, he had to
have a contact to the Gultur police HQ.

  There was no way to verify his betrayal. That thought alone told Elei clearly that he didn’t believe it. Deep inside, his instinct told him that Kalaes couldn’t have done it, because he wasn’t that kind of person.

  And that instinct had been proven wrong a number of times already.

  He watched Maera and Hera, their forms curled under the agaric stalks, pretending to ignore each other. Kalaes lay on his side, his tied hands resting next to his face. He didn’t stir, but Elei could see the glint of his open eyes in the milky light.

  Trust the facts. Nothing else. The facts.

  But there were always the dreams of Poena, and the unanswered questions, his flight from Ost and the cure everyone was searching for. With his fingertips he felt his side, the now healing wound, and tried to convince himself the bullet had been taken out, that it hadn’t fallen somewhere inside his body, slowly killing him. He thought of Pelia and welcomed the bittersweet pain. He thought of every little bit of information she’d given him about the labs and the drugs produced there. Had she ever mentioned an antidote for Regina? Had she given him any clue that he had ignored?

  He pulled his hood back and looked up at the glowing roof of the giant mushroom he was under. He wondered if the gods in the deep ever imagined how much their children would change. He wondered if the gods knew or even cared.

  Maybe their lack of interest was what made them gods, he thought bitterly, and his worry and fear what made him human.

  Chapter 21

  Elei scratched at his arms for the thousandth time, hissing at the sting, and licked cracked lips. Water, his mind chanted. Find water.

  Light dribbled between the agaric stalks, filtering through their semi-transparent caps, casting a filigree of silver on the ground. It was time to wake everyone up. Nobody had approached their camp, but as day broke someone might.

  Beside him, curled on his side, tied hands thrown before his frowning face, slept Kalaes. There were black tracks on his cheeks. He’d wept at some point and his tears had turned to mud against the ground.

  Elei’s chest constricted.

  Some steps away, Hera slept on her back, arms at her sides, still as if carved of rock. He remembered her standing there, dressed only in her luminous skin, radiating anger and pride, and swallowed hard with a flare of lust.

  A Gultur, not to be trusted, that’s whom he desired. That’s how messed up he was.

  Where was Maera?

  He stood up, rubbing his gritty eyes. Maera sat a little further, longgun in her lap, fast asleep. There was something in her relaxed posture that made him want to smile.

  Which was entirely out of place on such a morning. In such a year. After all that had happened.

  Pelia…

  The skin of his legs and arms burned. He rubbed and rubbed, and wished he could just take his skin off, slip if off like a shirt he no longer needed. He wished he could erase these past few days and start again.

  Hera rolled on her side and blinked. “So you stayed up after all.” Elei wasn’t sure if she sounded dubious or pleasantly surprised. He just stared at her, refusing to answer.

  She gave a quick look around, rose in one fluid movement, dusted her gray suit and walked over to Elei. Her hands twitched on her belt, probably seeking her longgun, and furrows formed on her brow. She passed Elei, stood over Kalaes and with her boot pushed him over on his back. Kalaes groaned and then rolled again on his side, hiding his face.

  “We must look for cover,” she said. “In the daylight we are exposed even here, and the aircar will be found at some point, camo or no camo. Maybe we can find some fuel, you never know. Or a vehicle to rent, with codes that might allow us to travel. In all honesty, in a place like this one, it’s improbable.” She shrugged. “Then again, in life, all is a matter of luck.”

  On that they agreed.

  “If we find a vehicle we can use on the road, where would we go from here?”

  She gave a grim smile. “Far. With this mad chase, the Gultur will heighten security measures and roadblocks. Unless we find a legitimate transport vehicle, we’re stuck here. And doomed.”

  “Right.” She had a point.

  “What about him?” She prodded Kalaes with her shoe. “Should we leave him here?”

  “You can’t.” Maera approached, turning pleading eyes on Elei. “Don’t leave him to the Gultur. You heard what Hera said about them. They’ve got no mercy.”

  Kalaes’ head jerked up at her words. He watched her, his dark gaze unreadable.

  “He comes with us.” Elei took a deep breath. “You said it yourself, we have to keep an eye on him, and maybe we could trade him if they corner us.” Although his chest ached at the thought, he had to accept Kalaes had betrayed them. “Come on, let’s move.”

  It was weird, this change of roles. There he was, helping Kalaes up, cutting off the tape that bound his ankles, while Maera pointed the longgun, tracking Kalaes’ every movement, her lips trembling. Unreal.

  Hera shoved Kalaes forward and he stumbled, barely catching himself.

  Hot anger tinted the world a faint red. Elei strode to place himself between them and raised his hands. “Hey, cut it out. Don’t hurt him.”

  “He’s a traitor!”

  A growl rose in Elei’s throat. “We still don’t know on whose side you are, so don’t go thinking you’re off the hook. Is that clear?”

  She kicked a loose stone, sent it thumping against an agaric stalk, and said nothing more.

  “Let’s go then,” Maera said quietly.

  Hera led their small group, striding ahead. Elei took Kalaes’ side as they walked toward the hamlet. Maera followed behind, covering their backs.

  “Hey, how are you doing?” He nudged Kalaes.

  It was also odd how he was the one who did most of the talking now. Kalaes just staggered on beside him, staring at some vague point, hardly blinking.

  “Here, give me your hands.”

  As they walked, Elei unwound the tape. He winced. The wrists were red and cut, bleeding sluggishly. He threw the tape away, disgusted.

  “Do you believe me, Elei?” Kalaes asked, his voice low and a little hoarse.

  Elei turned, surprised. He pushed his hands deep into his pockets. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

  He thought he saw a flicker of hope in Kalaes’ eyes. But then Kalaes looked away and he couldn’t be sure.

  They walked into the hamlet just as farmers left for their fungi fields and blue algae ponds of brine. A baker was punching a roll of dough on a bench outside his house, and a woman was sweeping her doorstep. A cat strolled by, sniffing the air. Birds rose in flocks, chirping.

  Hera stopped at a tall fence at the end of the main street, peeked over it and then went on walking. Nothing there.

  “There has to be dakron somewhere,” Maera said from behind. “Can’t be that no-one has any.”

  He glanced back. She looked grim and sad, the longgun hanging in her belt, her curls flattened and dull.

  “We’ll find something,” he said, mostly to convince himself. Ahead, Hera was asking more people and receiving headshakes and shrugs. Just their luck.

  Hera. Kalaes. Elei wished he knew who to trust, what to do next. He could see things, or at least the surface, scratch the skin, but not catch the real meaning.

  Someone was shouting. He blinked.

  Hera held a bearded man by the scruff of his neck.

  “Hey, leave him alone!”

  Hera paid Elei no heed. She dragged the unfortunate man toward them with ease. Elei snorted. It looked like the muscles in her slim arms weren’t just decoration. “No fuel for an aircar in the village. But we’re in luck. He has a transport aircar that’s still in use.”

  Great, so kill him now, why don’t you, for owning the thing we need. Elei shook his head. “Great news. But I haven’t got any money to pay him.”

  Hera took out a handful of bills from a pocket. “Here.” She thrust them into the man’s hands.
>
  He sputtered, his scraggly beard trembling. “This is barely enough to buy the dakron for it!”

  “You’ll take it and you’ll provide the road codes and the dakron for it at no further cost,” Hera said in a tone that brooked no argument, each word punctuated by a shake. The man fought to get free of her grip. She let go of him and he stumbled sideways, falling against a stack of dusty boxes.

  “That’s thievery!” he whined.

  “No, it’s a discount.” Hera’s eyes narrowed. “You keep your miserable life as a bonus.”

  Oh, they had just crossed the line to death threats. Just pissing great. “Hera, are you sure this is a good idea?”

  “Yes.” She stepped closer to Elei, pitched her voice low. “Taking the car instead of fuel is much better. They know by now the numbers of the one we have been using and will block it at any checkpoint. This one’s codes should make it through.”

  Yeah, let’s think positive.

  Hera turned back to the man and gave a dangerous grin. “Well?”

  The man cowered. He unhooked the keys and the code tags from his belt, and offered them to Hera with a shaking hand.

  She grabbed them and shoved the man off. She turned to the others, who were openly gaping at her. “Have I missed something? I thought we were in a hurry. And why is Kalaes untied?”

  “I’m keeping an eye on him, no worries.” Elei kept his voice firm, and she just raised her chin and looked away.

  The aircar was kept in a storehouse off the road. The building had a run-down feel about it. Crows rose in a black cloud from the rafters with loud cries when the man, whose expression grew sourer by the minute, threw the doors open with a thud.

  Inside, half-darkness swallowed space. Faint light slipped in silver shafts from the roof where planks hung, dangling over their heads. Holes littered the walls where the nepheline had rotted. The smell of mold tickled Elei’s nostrils.

  The man strode to the back and pulled off the cover sheet. The aircar was an old design but had no visible problems. The man went to a corner, took out dakron ingots and pushed them into the aircar’s tanking port.