Elei's Chronicles (Books 1-3) (44 page)

Cat batted at his hand, blue eyes bright.

“Bathroom’s free, fe,” Kalaes called out as he entered, rubbing his head with a towel. His pants clung to his wet legs. The tattoo over his heart — a circle with a star inside — seemed to pulse with red, like blood, among the black and blue bruises that mottled his torso and back.

Elei wrenched his gaze away from the damage.
I caused this
. “It’s no use, Cat. I have no clue what the number is supposed to stand for. How am I going to do this if I don’t know what Pelia meant?”

“You know you sound crazy talking to the cat, right?”

 He looked up into Kalaes’ amused eyes. “Maybe I am.”

“Heh, no doubt about that.” Kalaes threw himself on the other bed, then groaned and sat up more carefully, an arm curled around his middle. “Ow. Dammit.” 

Elei got up just as carefully, slowly putting weight on his leg. He looked up and found Kalaes’ gaze fixed on him. It made him itch.

“Was Hera pulling my leg?” Kalaes wet hair was plastered to his face and neck and dripped into his eyes, the water running in sparkling tracks like tears.

“About what?”

“You, saving me from the hospital.”

Elei shook his head, weary. “No, she wasn’t pulling your damn leg.”

“You didn’t die.” Kalaes’ voice had gone very soft. “They made me think you did, and not only were you okay, you broke out of the hospital, and then came back for me.”

And his point was? Elei ducked his head and hobbled toward the door.

“Why, fe?” 

The question stopped him cold. “Why what?” It came out sharper than he’d intended.

“Why did you do it?”

He turned, reaching out a hand to steady himself on the doorframe. “You want to know why I left without you, why I let you be...”
tortured, broken
. He drew a sharp breath. “I looked for you the first time but I couldn’t find you and they were shooting—”

“Dammit, fe, that’s not what I meant.” The older boy had bowed his head, so Elei couldn’t see his face anymore, but his voice sounded muffled and strained.

Elei was mystified. “Then?”

“Why did you go back for me? You almost got yourself killed.”

Grief warred with rage and Elei wasn’t sure his legs would hold him. “You...” He had to stop because his voice was cracking. “How can you ask me this? You saved my life over and over again, and I destroyed yours. I thought...”
I thought we were family
.

“You thought what?” Kalaes raised his face and gave him a sideways glance.

“I thought it’s only...” His voice did crack then. “Only fair.” He turned and hurried from the room. He thought he heard Kalaes call his name but didn’t look back.

The door to the bathroom was open and steam wafted out in thick waves. Inside it was all shiny white tiles and a square, fogged over mirror on the wall. Then he remembered he wasn’t supposed to wet all those wounds, so no shower for him.
Damn
. He closed the door. Grumbling to himself, he undressed and washed as best he could with a bar of green soap he found and warm water. He bent over the small sink and soaped his hair, and the water ran black and brown.

He rubbed his hair dry, wiped the water from his body and stared in dismay at the towel, now stained with rusty streaks of blood and grime. Why did they always have to make towels white? How about some dark red or black ones?

Or how about not getting shot at for a change?

Shaking his head, he pulled his stinky, stained pants back on, foregoing the shirt until he dried some more, and opened the door to return to the bedroom, with a mental reminder to ask Hera where to find clean clothes. His bed sounded fantastic right now. It was barely evening, but he couldn’t keep his eyes open any longer. He only hoped he could lay aside all thoughts of Rex and rest. Still rubbing his head with the towel, he stepped out.

And bumped into someone.

“Ow, watch where you’re going.” Blond hair, wide golden eyes, a soft mouth twisted in a grimace.

Alendra
. Just his luck. “I was, dammit. You fell on me.” His mouth was on autopilot now. “Disinfectant’s in the bathroom, I guess you’ll need it.”

“I didn’t fall on you!” Alendra frowned. “You opened the door not even looking—”

“I didn’t do it on purpose, I was just...” Why was he even trying to explain? He snapped his rebellious mouth shut and stepped aside to let her pass. “Forget it.”

“I wish it was that simple,” she said, brushing past him and going into the bathroom. Her scent of sea breeze filled his nostrils, so cool, and sent his heart pounding.

Not forgiven, then. Not that he expected to be. He stared after her, exhausted. “Yeah, me too.”

Chapter
Fifteen

R
eturning
to the bedroom, he found Kalaes already in bed, a lump under the covers. His mop of dark hair spread on the white pillow like spilled ink, his face a pale oval barely visible underneath.

“Hey,” he mumbled when Elei walked in, and he shifted, making the bed creak. “Good shower?”

Elei shrugged. He threw the towel on the floor, next to Kalaes’, and closed the door.

“The girls have turned in already,” Kalaes said and lifted his head to look at Elei.

Elei didn’t bother correcting him. His issues with Alendra — or her issues with him — were not Kalaes’ concern. He stared down at his shirt — one sleeve scorched and ripped to shreds where bullets and shrapnel had hit him, the front and back stained brown with blood. He debated wearing it to sleep, then decided against it and laid it on the small table before climbing into bed.

“Are you all right, fe?” Kalaes sat in his bed, fingering the medallion hanging from his neck. He was bare-chested too and Elei couldn’t help but stare at the bruises again. Kalaes looked down at them too, lips twisting. “I think I must’ve busted a rib or two. Breathing hurts.”

Elei looked away, guilt an ever-present weight on his shoulders. “My fault.”

“No, it wasn’t.”

Dammit, how couldn’t it be? “You were there because of me, they hurt you to get to me, you—”

“You didn’t choose all this mess, fe. Don’t blame yourself.”

Gods, he wanted to believe that. “But you lost everything. I owe you—”

“Screw this. This isn’t about owing anything.” Kalaes drew a shuddering breath. “You know that.”

Elei frowned and pulled back the covers. He burrowed into the bed, shivering against the cold sheets. Then what was it about? Not sure he wanted to know the answer, afraid to hope, he laid his head back on the pillow and a sigh escaped his lips. His eyelids were heavy. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a good night’s sleep. His body floated, not connected to gravity anymore, and images flashed before his eyes — Pelia’s smile, Albi’s wrinkled face, blood, more blood.

“You wanted to know,” Kalaes said and Elei jerked, his eyes flying open. He blinked at the soft darkness until his vision adjusted. His racing heart made colors jump on the ceiling, chasing any living form, spiders and fungi, outlining them in silver.

“...What?”

Kalaes made a small harrumphing sound from the other bed. “You asked me to tell you. About me. About my past.”

“What? No.” Elei tried to focus, his mind still sluggish with sleep. “I just said...” What had he said? He pulled on the fragments of memory, trying to remember. Kalaes had accused him of not knowing anything about him, and then... “You said I was better off not knowing.”

“You know what, that’s true.” Kalaes was looking at the wall and not at him. “Forget it.”

Elei sat up in bed, wide awake now.
Shit
. “Kalaes...”

But Kalaes lay down again, turning his back. A tremor went through his body but he said nothing else.

Dammit
. He’d screwed up. Kalaes had been trying to talk with him. How could he have guessed? The Kalaes he’d known didn’t need an invitation to spill his guts.

Feeling like a prick, Elei lay back down, curled on his side and drew the covers up to his chin, his jaw clenched and teeth grinding. Hurting Kalaes was the last thing he’d wanted. Damn his big mouth. He stared at the rigid line of Kalaes’ back and didn’t know what to do.

He’d never be able to sleep now. He’d never... He just couldn’t...

Breeze blew from the sea, fresh and cool against his face. He stood on a deserted pier. A familiar one. Pier Heron, on the west coast of Ost. He liked walking here. It wasn’t far from the monastery factory. Waves rolled on the sea, crashing on the pier.

“Are you coming?” Afia said, reaching up for his hand, smiling. Jek stalked toward him, waving, and caught Elei’s other hand.

Elei didn’t resist when the two kids tugged him toward the pier. Someone sat there, on a concrete bench by the water. The breeze picked up and whipped dark hair that Elei knew would be gray at the temples and the wide sleeves of a white blouse he knew would be stained with blood. 

Pelia didn’t turn to look at them as they approached. Her profile was graceful and he stopped just to look at it. Afia halted and gave him a small shove. Jek stopped too, releasing him. They nodded toward Pelia.

So Elei walked toward her alone, fine spray from the crashing waves tickling his face. His feet were bare but not cold. The spray drenched him but only his hair got wet.

“You came,” Pelia said and patted the bench next to her. “Sit.”

He did, looking out at the heaving sea. “Of course I came.”

“I thought you’d forgotten.” She sighed. “I told you about it so long ago.”

Elei felt he knew what she was talking about but couldn’t name it. “Soon after you hired me.”

“Yes. The third month, when I knew. I told you about the medallion.”

He tried to remember. “You gave it away for safekeeping.”

“You do remember.” She gave him a fond smile. There were drops of blood on her cheek. “I gave it to someone I trust. You must read it.”

“Read the medallion.”
Of course
. He nodded. “I will.”

“And unlock it.”

“The number?”

“Your birthday, yes.” She sighed. “You must bring the Gultur down, son. I have faith in you.”

“Faith.” He heard harsh panting and turned toward the children. Why was Jek panting like that? “Jek?”

Jek stumbled toward him, reaching out, his mouth stretched wide. Then he cried out, a choked sound.

Elei jolted upright, his eyes flying open, his pulse thundering in his ears. The boy, the pier, the sea, all turned transparent like glass, walls and furniture showing through. Then the afterimages swirled like smoke and faded. A room. Not the pier. Not Pelia, Afia or Jek. Then...

Someone cried out again, a sound of abject terror, and Elei’s whole body jerked.
Kalaes
.

On the other bed, the older boy arched off the mattress, spine bent awkwardly back, tendons corded in his neck. His hands were fisted in the covers. His dark hair, still wet, spilled on the white pillowcase.

“Kalaes.” The gods knew what nightmare held him so rigid, straining as if against someone’s chokehold. “Kal!”

Kalaes’ eyes moved rapidly under his lids. His lips peeled back and another cry tore from his mouth, distorted and desperate.

The door opened and Hera peeked inside. “Kalaes?”

“I got it. It’s okay.” Elei threw back his covers and swung his legs over the side as the door closed. Taking a deep breath, he got up. His knee buckled, the muscles stiff from not moving, but he managed to straighten. Blood rushing in his ears, he limped over to Kalaes’ bed.

Kalaes writhed, too entangled in the covers to free himself. His arms trembled, and his fingers were caught in the sheets, white- knuckled. His teeth were bared, his eyes scrunched shut, his features locked in a grimace. He whimpered.

Do something
. Elei touched Kalaes’ arm. “Hey.”

Kalaes jerked and his hand shot out. Elei caught the ice-cold fingers before they hit him. “Kalaes. Wake up.” Fear curled around his spine. “Hey, wake up!”

“Zag!” Kalaes mumbled. “Please.”

“It’s all right.” Elei squeezed the icy fingers once. “It’s just a dream.”

A tremor went through Kalaes. He wasn’t free of the nightmare yet.

“It’s okay.” Elei’s trembling legs finally gave out and he sank heavily on the creaking mattress. “Everything’s okay.”

Kalaes shivered again, his breathing still too fast, his skin too cold. His eyes opened, filled with bleak despair. He rolled them toward Elei. “Zag?”

The vise around Elei’s heart squeezed. “Just Elei.”

Kalaes swallowed hard and looked up at the ceiling. Then, with a groan, he twisted around, turning his back to Elei.

Elei stiffened, prepared to get up, obviously dismissed. But something kept him from leaving yet — something in Kalaes’ reaction, his stiff posture, the way he curled into himself.

Then he heard Kalaes’ breath hitch, a tiny, desperate sob, quickly stifled against the pillow.

Elei shivered. He reached down clumsily, rested his hand on Kalaes’ shoulder. “I’m sure Zag’s all right,” he said.
Damned Gultur
. “It was all a dream, nothing more. You’ll find him again, I promise. I’ll make sure you return to your family.”

Kalaes shuddered.

“It was just a nightmare,” Elei went on. “You can get through this. You can beat this.” He faltered, not sure he was helping. When Kalaes said nothing, he pushed back to his feet and stood still for a moment, looking down at the tousled head on the pillow, thinking he heard Kalaes’ breathing even out.

He turned and limped back to his own bed. He’d already climbed back under the covers, when Kalaes said, so softly Elei wasn’t sure he’d heard it:

“Bad things do happen. And some dreams are real.”

Elei held his breath, waiting for something more, some explanation, but the silence settled around them like dust, and at last he lay back down to sleep.

***

Morning came all too soon, cold light spilling down in silvery sheets from the high-set windows. Elei rubbed his blurry eyes and turned on his side, wincing as stiff muscles and healing wounds protested. Kalaes’ bed was empty, the covers a jumbled mess.

Scrubbing a hand over his face and through his hair, Elei got up, pulled on his blood-stiffened shirt and tried to straighten the wrinkles, then gave up. Strange smells wafted from the kitchen and he heard voices. He limped inside and found Kalaes and Alendra at the table, eating blue bread and seal ham, discussing the merits of dry dakron engines. Alendra spared him a brief glance but her face showed nothing. She acted for all the world like she’d never met him in her life.

Kalaes was waving a chunk of bread as he chattered about the best isolation materials and the purest dakron types, his eyes bright, and Elei stared, the images of the previous night superimposing themselves — Kalaes’ trembling shoulders, his bleak gaze.

Cat entered and rubbed itself on the wall, mewing. It stayed there, gazing at Elei, blue eyes occasionally flicking to Hera.

She stood by the stove, mixing something in a pot.
Hera cooking?
Elei blinked. She was pouring boiling water over something that gave off a pungent scent, bitter and acrid. 

“What
is
this stuff?” He wandered closer, eyed the pot suspiciously. He sniffed and coughed, his throat burning. “Something to clean the aircar engine with?”

She folded her arms across her chest and lifted an eyebrow. “Very funny.” She nodded at the steaming pot. “It’s for you.”

“For me, huh?” He wondered if Regina was out for his blood again. “Smells...deadly.”

“In fact, it’s for Rex.”

His gaze snapped up to hers. “What will it do?”

“Weaken it.”

“Are you sure?”
Sure it won’t kill me?

“It will not harm you. Well, not much.”

Rex screeched inside his head. “Well, that’s reassuring.” He stared into the pot, at black specks floating in the steaming liquid, and swallowed hard. “What is it?”

“Yarwood thistle and black
tinga
fungus.”

“How do you know it’ll work? Does cronion react to them?”

“No.” She pushed the pot toward him. “But these contain acids that benefit telmion, and telmion can weaken Rex.” She shrugged.

Elei stared into the muddy liquid. He’d take any help he could to control Rex. “You said it won’t harm me... much?” Cold sweat rolled down his back.

“I do not think so. Drink up.”

“You don’t think so.” He sighed, curled a hand around the pot, let the warmth seep into his fingers. “Okay.”

“What’s that, fe?” Kalaes called out from the table, a grin in his voice. “I thought you’d have sworn off alcohol by now.”