Elei's Chronicles (Books 1-3) (48 page)

Hera huffed. No use speculating and hoping and losing focus. Right now she had an infiltration to organize.

***

Kalaes insisted on driving the last stretch of the way, with Hera in the co-driver’s seat giving instructions, so Elei sat in the cabin. He tried to avoid looking at Alendra, but whenever he turned to peer at the landscape through the other window, his gaze would snag on her soft lips, her small chin, her narrow wrists, the gentle curves of her body.

He managed to avoid her eyes, much good that it did him.

Gortyn spread along the cliffs, with tall houses clustered around the beacon. Their high walls were littered with holes — for pigeons, Elei realized as they passed them by, seeing the white and gray birds come and go. Pigeon meat was good, if sparse. How odd, to live over the sea and not be allowed to fish it.

The sea had belonged exclusively to the Gultur since the Great War. Elei vaguely recalled hearing about the treaty during history classes. The Gultur had won the war and accused the mortals of attempting genocide against their race, justifying their rule over the seven islands.

He shivered.
A genocide
. Was there any truth in that? Hard to believe the weak mortals had tried to wipe off the supreme Gultur race. Then again, perhaps the mortals hadn’t always been so weak, or the Gultur so strong.

Kalaes drove past the beacon —  a white lighthouse with a spiral staircase winding around it —  between the rows of tower-like houses, and out of the town.

Elei frowned. An agaric grove stood about a mile inland, the stems crumpling, the pileus caps sagging — an old grove that had probably released its spores, soon to collapse and turn to rich soil for the new agaric mushrooms to grow. Why was Kalaes driving them there?

Of course. The aircar
. Leaving it in plain sight in the small town wasn’t exactly discreet if someone was still after them. He fingered the grip of his Rasmus, uneasy. They’d go through the tunnels, enter Dakru City. He needed Hera to guide him up to that point, but then he’d take over.

A plan was forming in his mind.
And about time
, the little voice in his head snarled. If he did this alone, Rex would help him. The parasite didn’t care about the others’ safety, so if they refused to go back to the aircar, he needed to make sure they stayed in the tunnels, so they could make a swift escape. He had the necessary information — the name of the safety box’s owner and the code to open it, to find out what Pelia had stored for safekeeping, what she’d hidden under layers of riddles and ambiguous words.

The aircar came to a halt beneath a gigantic mushroom cap that covered it almost from end to end. The engine powered down.

They clambered down into the musty grove air, locked the aircar and trudged after Hera who headed toward the town with wide, purposeful strides.

Kalaes kept pace with Elei and Alendra, his face still drawn. Cat bounded ahead, sniffing patches of weeds and stones.

The path led them close to the cliff and then they descended among the houses with their high fences and barking dogs. Seagulls cried below the cliffs and a hawk circled above, a black speck in the blue eye of the sky.

Hera turned into a small square with a statue of Tethys, goddess of the ocean, small wings sprouting from her head and folded around it like a diadem. The goddess had a fishtail instead of legs, and for some reason that seemed to fascinate Hera, because she went right up to the statue and stroked the sleek fishtail. She was murmuring something so low not even Elei could make out the words, except for ‘siren’, another word for mermaid in the prayers he’d been taught by the monks.

“Tethys. According to the myths, she raised Hera, didn’t she?” Alendra cocked her head to the side, pale hair spilling over one shoulder.

Was that why Hera seemed so moved?

“Let’s go, fe.” Kalaes glanced around, his body radiating tension. “I don’t like this place, I feel like there’re eyes behind every door watching us. It’s freaking me out.”

Elei had to agree the place was eerily quiet and creepy. Even the dogs had fallen silent.

Hera stepped away from the statue, pulled her hair back and twisted it at her nape. She turned in a circle, as if looking for something. Then a slow smile stretched her lips.

“Come.” She stalked to a narrow alley between two gray houses, disturbing a pigeon that flew away in a flutter of wings. Hera slowed, gaze on the dirty street, then stopped and prodded something with her booted toe.

A sewage lid, round and decorated with winding carvings.

“This is the entrance?” Kalaes raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure? I kinda expected something... grander.”

“As if I’d take you to one of the main entrances.” Hera humphed. “Help me.”

They hunkered down and twisted the lid, lifting it between them. It clanked softly when they lowered it, revealing a black hole. The stench that streamed out knocked Elei back a step, burning his nose and eyes. Alendra made a choking sound.

“Here we go.” Kalaes wiped a grimy hand over his mouth, leaving a black smudge on his cheek. His hair stuck out in all directions, like a sea urchin. Elei smiled in spite of everything.

Cat came to investigate and gave a mournful meow.

“Stay here, Cat.” Elei tried to catch the animal. “Stay.”

The sound of dripping water came from the tunnel, and something clanked in its depths.

“I go first,” Hera said, and without a backward glance she lowered her legs inside and dropped out of view.

“Of all the inane things to do...” Kalaes shook his head. “Why couldn’t she wait? We didn’t talk about how to go about this.”

Cat threw Elei a disdainful glance and jumped down after Hera.
Damned Cat
.

“Kal.” Elei hunkered down next to him. “I’ll go with her. I’ll do this. You stay here, with Alendra. Hide in the aircar and wait for us.”

“Here, take this,” Kalaes said, patently ignoring his words. “You may need it.” He pushed a small dagger into Elei’s hand. 

Elei clutched it, frustrated. “Kal, just listen, you need to—”

Kalaes gripped the front of Elei’s shirt, startling him into silence. “You’re out of your mind if you think I’ll let you go into Dakru City alone, fe. Who will keep an eye on you?”

Elei blinked. “But you said—”

“I said I can’t protect you.” Kalaes released him, shoving him lightly back. He absently patted his belt where another dagger nestled.

“I know,” Elei said, nodding. “And I don’t expect—”

“But I want to,” Kalaes said, his voice intense, full of some strong feeling. “After all that happened, I’m afraid I’ll fail again.” His lips tilted into a crooked smile as he prepared to jump into the tunnel. “But, dammit, that doesn’t mean I won’t try my best.”

Chapter
Eighteen

T
he tunnel was
narrow and low, the stench gods-awful. Hunched over, a hand over his mouth, Elei crept along and kept his eyes on Kalaes’ back. At least he could see fine in the dark. From Kalaes’ yelps and hearty swearing, he knew the others faced difficulties. Alendra hissed a soft curse behind him and her footsteps faltered, then resumed. But Hera led them and hadn’t seemed hesitant when she’d gone inside. She acted as if she knew the tunnels well, and besides, she could see almost as well as he could. Regina had its advantages, too.

‘But that doesn’t mean I won’t try my best.’
Kalaes’ words echoed in Elei’s mind. In the damp coldness of the tunnels, they kept him warm.

And he had other things to keep his mind busy.
Pelia and Hecate
. All the time he’d worked as a driver for Pelia on Ost, from the moment she’d picked him out from the other orphans at the monks’ factory to the moment of her death, he’d never once suspected she was involved in the resistance. She’d been a quiet, calm woman. Taller than he was, she’d been strong with wide shoulders, her graying hair carefully combed to one side and fastened at the nape. She’d always worn button-up blouses, closed all the way, prim and proper, and dark pants. A serious lady, a businesswoman with the vision of a brighter future. A generous soul, always with a smile and a kind word.

A mother
. A private sun to warm him up when he was cold.

But she was an important member of the Undercurrent. She knew many things she never spoke about, and she’d given him clues. Had she picked him at random? Had she planned all this?

So many questions. Maybe the safety box held some answers.
Below
. A mermaid’s fishtail. Hecate, a goddess of the nether hells, a goddess of the dead.
Go lower. Go down below. To the core
.

Kalaes slowed and Elei all but plowed into his back. “Pissing hells.”

“What is it?” Elei tried to see around the other boy’s wide shoulders but the tunnel was too narrow, the only illumination the luminescent yellow fungi on the ceiling and the walls.

“What’s happening?” Alendra’s voice held a note of fear in its thin thread.

“Hera?” Kalaes took another step forward and halted. “Dammit, where has she gone?”

He shifted a little so that Elei could see the tunnel stretch ahead, empty.

“Is there a side tunnel?”

“Hells if I know.” Kalaes groaned and took another step, his hands brushing the walls. “Hera?”

“In here.” Hera’s words came from their left and Kalaes snarled.

“Don’t go off like that without warning, fe. You almost gave me a heart attack.”

“You’re too young to suffer from your heart.” Hera’s voice echoed. “So stop whining and come in here.”

“Lovely.” Kalaes pressed his forearm against his eyes and straightened. “And we’re only just getting started.”

He turned into the side tunnel and Elei followed him, boots sliding on the wet, slimy floor. This tunnel was higher and somewhat wider. It wasn’t made of concrete, or metal. Elei knocked lightly on the wall and it rang like dense stone, a deep sound. He splayed his hand on its cold surface and he thought he saw a symbol carved on it. He leaned closer, tracing the design with his fingertip. It looked like part of a schematic rather than anything religious, but he couldn’t be sure. He itched to ask Hera if she’d often passed through these tunnels, but she was too far ahead, and anyway this was probably not the time. He filed the symbol in his mind for later.

Alendra almost bumped into his back just as he got moving once more. “Elei?” her soft voice had a hard core of fear.

“It’s me.” He hurried toward Kalaes, now a dwindling figure in the murky distance. “Don’t worry, I can see them.”

And why was he trying to reassure her? Shaking his head at his own idiocy, he waded through the dirty waters, dragging his hand along the cold, slimy wall, and feeling from time to time more carvings under his fingers.

Strange
. Or maybe it was normal. Maybe these were only carvings made by the constructors of these tunnels, to mark specific passages or characteristics and to guide them through this maze.

They turned into a much larger tunnel, an artery, its ceiling at least twenty feet above Elei’s head, and so wide a path led alongside the waste. They climbed the steps to reach it. It was a relief to step out of the viscous liquid and onto drier ground. Alongside their steps, maybe fifteen feet below, flowed the sludge. They trudged for a while, a tricky feat on the slippery path, until they reached another tunnel and climbed even higher to follow another footwalk. This tunnel was easily forty feet tall.

If they hadn’t reached the main sewage tunnel yet, how come this one was so big? No way Dakru City produced so much waste. The sludge running below was ridiculously little. His fingers brushed over more symbols and he had to wonder if there had been another purpose to this maze. There was no way of knowing how old the tunnels were. He’d assumed the Gultur had built them. If so, then Hera would know what the symbols were.
Later. Focus
.

But it was hard to focus on anything as they hiked for miles underground. Everyone was quiet, but he didn’t know if it was tiredness or fear they might be heard. Any small sound echoed and was amplified, carrying along the tunnels — from the drip of water from the roof to their breathing and footsteps, at certain junctions creating a maddening din that could probably be heard by any guard patrolling the upper levels of the sewers.

Elei’s heart beat mingled with his steps and he breathed to the time of symbols running under his hands. How far were they still? His leg started to twinge again, torn, regenerating muscles pulling under the bandages. He’d probably have to take out the stitches by now and the thought made him wince. Still, he was grateful. He barely limped anymore. Thanks to Rex.

He hurried to catch up with Kalaes, who was turning into another tunnel. Behind him, Alendra’s steps were fading and he slowed again, biting down on annoyance. He wondered if that was how Hera felt, how all Gultur felt, when faced with mortals who were that much weaker, blinder, deafer. Lesser.

No sooner had Alendra approached, her face a white oval in the darkness, her hair a golden halo, than he turned around and followed the others into the next tunnel, an even larger one, easily sixty feet high. The path was elevated, a metal grid like a bridge without a rail. The slippery steps were metal this time, and he climbed, keeping a hand on the wall. Falling would be deadly. The stinky sludge below couldn’t be deep enough to cushion his fall.
What a way to go
.

Higher and higher he climbed until he reached a plateau, and then even higher on rusty, creaking steps. Gods, he hated heights and even more this place. He could see Kalaes’ form ahead, a dark silhouette against the yellow light of the fungi, his wild hair a black star.

Something shook the staircase and a sharp cry rang out, bouncing against the curved walls of the tunnel.

Shit. Alendra
.

He turned around, keeping a death hold on the next rung, and looked down. Pissing hells. She’d slipped over the side, her pale hair rising in the slight breeze wafting from the tunnel. She’d managed to find a handhold and she hung over the void with more than fifty feet below her and death waiting on the tunnel floor.

“Help me,” she called out softly, and he blinked. That hadn’t been the screech of fear he’d expected, the hysterical weeping. Sometimes he forgot that despite being so young, Alendra was a member of the resistance and probably had more experience with danger than he could imagine.

He took a careful step down, then another. Going down the slimy steps was much harder than going up. One step, then another, and he slipped. His breath whooshed out of his lungs, strangling a cry in his throat. His hold on a step saved him from falling all the way, but the yank on his wrist pulled something and he groaned as he slowly maneuvered his body into a prone position. He hung there for a moment, trying to catch his breath. Carefully he released his grip. His wrist felt sprained.
Just great
.

A hitched, desperate breath from Alendra snapped him out of the trance, and he resumed climbing down, backward, on hands and knees, so he could hold onto the staircase for more security.

Finally he heard her rapid breathing on his left and glanced to the side. Her small hand was lodged inside a hole in the rusty metal step. Blood spread around it. The metal cut into her hand, but she wasn’t even whimpering.

His eyebrows shot up.
Goddamn impressive control
.

He braced his legs and feet against the stair to free his hands. Then carefully, movements as gentle as he could manage, he freed her hand. She hissed as he pulled her hand off the jutting metal. The cut went deep in her palm, probably all the way to her bone.

Pressing his lips together, holding one-handedly onto a step, he grabbed her wrist and pulled, inch by inch, until her other hand appeared and scrambled for a hold on the staircase. It found none, but he dragged her higher, until her blond head appeared over the edge, deathly white, eyes huge. She swung a leg over the ledge and managed to hang there, panting hard.

“Elei?” Kalaes low voice flowed down the stairs. “Where are you? Is everything okay?”

“Fine.” He bit the word out.

“What’s going on?” Kalaes’ voice tightened with worry. “You don’t sound fine to me.”

Elei shifted the grip of his sprained hand on the step as he pulled harder, lifting Alendra onto the staircase. “We’re fine.”

“I’m coming down to help you.”

“No!” Elei grabbed Alendra’s arm and pulled her against him in a hug to prevent her from tumbling back down. Her heart fluttered like a bird’s against his side. “I got her. Don’t come down. Too dangerous.” He stopped to catch his breath.

“Elei?” Kalaes’ whisper grew urgent.

“We’re on our way up.”

Alendra shuddered and he wondered if she was crying. It’d be normal after nearly falling to her death, and her hand had to hurt like all the hells. Yet, when he looked down at her, her cheeks were dry. Her toughness reminded him of Afia and his lips quirked in a small smile.

Blood spilled from her hand. He needed to take care of that. He shifted closer to the wall, dragging her along, and made sure she was secure. Then he reached down, found the hem of his shirt, and tore a strip. The sound of cloth ripping echoed in the tunnel. He gestured for her hand and wound the cloth around it, as tightly as he dared without cutting the circulation.

“There.” He wiped sweat from his eyes and looked up, where he could barely make out Kalaes’ hunched form, peering down at them. “Shall we go up?”

She nodded, a jerky movement. A strand of pale hair stuck to her forehead with sweat and without thinking, he reached down to stroke it back.

He never did. He snatched his hand back, horrified at himself, expecting her to flinch and say something scathing.

But she didn’t. She swallowed hard and her heart still raced. “Thank you,” she whispered and lifted her wounded hand to his face, her fingers close to his marked cheek — not quite touching, but he felt their warmth against his skin.

He didn’t dare breathe.

“Hera said it’s safe to touch you.” She swallowed again. “That this isn’t catching.”

“Not catching,” he whispered back, his heart banging inside his chest. “True.”

She gave a tiny smile, and her hand hovered. He held his breath, hoping.

“Elei?” Kalaes’ voice floated down the stairs, strained. “Where are you? I can’t see a pissing thing down here!”

The moment broke to pieces, and she lowered her hand and her bright gaze, leaving Elei cold. He swallowed a sigh and gestured for her to climb first so that he would catch her if she slipped again. He wished he knew what she’d have done had Kalaes not spoken, but he was also relieved, not sure he wanted to know. She’d probably still been in shock. Later she’d recoil from the memory of touching his tainted skin, of snuggling against his infected body.
Later
.

The memory of her almost-touch burned like a firebrand in his mind.