Read Elei's Chronicles (Books 1-3) Online
Authors: Chrystalla Thoma
Elei's Chronicles (Books 1-3) (79 page)
***
“So this is goodbye,” Hera said, hugging Alendra.
“Until we meet again, soon I hope.” Alendra’s whisper was muffled against Hera’s shoulder. “No self-sacrificing stunts, okay?”
“That’s more Kalaes’ style,” Hera muttered, and Kalaes sniffed, lifting his chin. She turned to hug Elei. “Take good care of yourself.”
He held her, eyes closed. “You too. We’ll see each other soon.” Cat growled, then climbed up to Elei’s shoulder, and it made him feel better.
Sacmis made her rounds, hugging everyone, even Kalaes, to whom Hera turned last.
“You, pet.” She beckoned imperiously. “Come here.”
Kalaes pointed at his chest and quirked an eyebrow. “Me?”
Hera grabbed him in an embrace that left him flailing. “Yes, you.”
“I thought you hated me,” Kalaes mumbled, his arms going around her. “For being a weak mortal.”
“Idiot.” She shook him. “That was Regina, not me.”
“And how am I supposed to know the goddamn difference?” His tone was wounded. “It’s not like a light starts blinking when Regina’s in charge, is it?”
Hera laughed and pushed off him. “I’ll be seeing you. We’ll meet at Dakru City once it’s over.”
“For drinks,” Kalaes said, and when he let her go, his lashes looked wet.
Elei took one last look at the hospital, and turned around quickly to follow Kalaes and Alendra. A boat waited for them at the dock. They sailed in the predawn dark, the boatwoman silent at the wheel. Glaring in silence appeared to be a characteristic of boatpeople everywhere.
They skirted Dakru at a safe distance from the coast, keeping a lookout for patrol boats. Cliffs rose from the mist on either side. Dakru and the other islands were dark, hulking ghosts. Here and there, slender towers rose from the waves — pillars. The boatwoman kept well clear of them, and Elei wondered if these were also electric, and if she’d experienced their effects.
He huddled on the bench, relishing the warmth of Alendra by his side, thinking of the past days. So many disconnected events that seemed to belong to different lives, different people. Wandering underground and under the sea, meeting the street children of Abydos, the field hospital and the evening at the bar, the kiss, and now this journey on the rolling sea.
Lights twinkled inland. Was it Dakru City? The illumination spread wide on the plain, just off the coast, flickering pools and pinpricks of brilliance.
He realized he was shaking and forced his shoulders back.
“Relax,” Kalaes whispered. “Almost there now.”
Elei straightened and glanced over the other side. The faint lights in the distance had to be Ost. Memories came rushing back, his life played out on the plains of the rocky island, from the trashlands to the monastery and then the capital of Ost with Pelia. A life that felt like it belonged to someone else.
The boat swerved, and he had to hold onto the bench as the waves crashed against the bow, drenching them in icy water. Cat hissed.
Shimmering spires and neon lights, the cranes in the port festooned with lamps, and a lone boat sitting at the docks, a black shape.
“My neighborhood,” Kalaes breathed. “Artemisia.”
E
lei put down
his pack of medicine and water and looked around the safe house while Cat set out to explore. A small apartment, floors scrubbed clean, a big window pouring morning light into the living room with honest to the gods sofas and armchairs, a low table and a bowl filled with glass marbles —
echoes from a dream, blood dribbling down someone’s lips, Pelia laughing...
He walked to the window, refusing to recall what the dream had been about. Below stretched the city, tall buildings and broad streets, warehouses and empty plots. And then the sea, glittering blue —
heaving as it received Albi’s body with the snarling of the dogs at his back...
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Kalaes said, coming to stand next to him, and Elei managed not to flinch, because those were memories and this was now.
“The sea?” he rasped.
“Yeah. The port.” Kalaes popped the window open and leaned out, the wind whipping his dark hair across his face. “I used to do this.”
“Do what?” Elei drew a breath and thought he smelled the sea above the fumes of aircars and the stench of the sewers.
Or maybe it was Alendra’s smell. She moved close to him, slipping a hand into his. She smiled and his heartbeat tripped.
“I used to climb up a tall building not far from here, all the way to the top,” Kalaes said. “And then I just looked at the sea.”
“Why?” Alendra murmured.
Kalaes closed the window and raked a hand through his hair, raising it into spikes once more. “To forget stuff. I told myself to remember the moment. You know, the calm, the blue, the wind.” His mouth settled in a grim line.
Elei patted Kalaes’ braids in the pit of his pocket. “You said...” He cleared his throat. “You’d take me to Akert for a drink.”
Kalaes flinched, although he tried to cover it. They hadn’t talked about the memorial ground since that night in the aircar speeding away from Gortyn, that confused, pain-laced conversation about Kalaes’ brother and the future.
“Would you really go?” Kalaes asked, so hushed Elei barely heard him.
Elei nodded. He’d promised he’d bring Kalaes home, and somehow he didn’t think Kalaes would make it back all the way unless he visited Zag’s memorial.
So he’d go, even if a shard of fear poked at his insides, because Zag was dead and perfect, haunting Kalaes’ sleep, and how could Elei compare? But Kalaes had said Elei had his own place, and he’d given up everything for him, had almost given up his life, and if that didn’t make them brothers...
“We’ll go.” He glanced at the clear skies outside. “This morning, if you want.”
“Should I ask what this is about?” Alendra arched an eyebrow at Elei, then at Kalaes.
Elei said nothing. This was up to Kalaes.
Moments trickled by.
“I’m sorry.” Alendra went to lean against the sofa, her eyes troubled. “I shouldn’t have asked. Kal, I’m—”
“My brother and my father,” Kalaes said, “their stelae are there.” And then he surprised Elei by adding, “Would you like to come along, fe?”
And then Alendra surprised him too, taking the two steps separating them and throwing her arms around Kalaes’ neck. “Thank you. And I’m sorry.”
Kalaes sort of crumpled, clutching her, saying something against her shoulder, and a hot flare went through Elei’s chest — not jealousy, only shame. He’d been getting hugs and consolation ever since he’d met these people — hells, even Hera had hugged him — but he’d forgotten that Kalaes might want some comfort too.
“Will you come, then?” Kalaes asked when Alendra finally drew away, his voice thick.
“Not this time.” She smiled at Elei. “Go on. I’ll be here when you come back.”
A small, warm promise he held onto as he followed Kalaes into the cold wind.
***
“Welcome to Akert,” Kalaes said.
A forest of square pillars erected on a cliff overlooking the waves, with the steep mountains of Ost as a backdrop. Seagulls hovered on the rising currents, occasionally flapping white wings.
Elei had never thought it’d look so peaceful. He’d thought some trace of violence would taint the place, some dark shadow from Kalaes’ nightmares.
Light played on the stelae, on names carefully chiseled in their smooth surface. Memorials, each bearing a family name, with lists of individual names running down the sides.
The wind blew and sang, and Elei huddled in his hoodie. Kalaes stopped in front of a stela close to the cliff’s edge. With slow, stiff motions, he knelt and bowed his head. The wind whipped at his t-shirt — Elei hadn’t noticed Kalaes had gone out without protection from the cold, and apparently Kalaes hadn’t, either.
Elei knelt by his side. The stela had
‘Ster’
written at its top, Kalaes’ family name. The list below was long, each name carved lovingly in perfect strokes, as if written with ink.
Except for the last two names: Zagres and Eren. They were cut crookedly into the concrete block, shallow and uneven, and there were dark smears that looked like blood. It was as if a child had carved them with a switch-knife.
In Kalaes’ hand, he saw a small bottle. “Where did you get this?”
“Got it at the bar the other night.” Kalaes’ lips twisted in a half-smile. “It’s good liquor.”
Elei nodded and laid a hand on Kalaes’ tense shoulder. “Shall we drink, then?”
Kalaes jaw trembled, then tightened. He took a swig from the bottle and deliberately splashed a few drops to the ground. “For you, Zag. For you, Dad.”
Elei pried the bottle from Kalaes’ fingers and sipped, his eyes watering. What in the hells was this stuff? He coughed and managed to pour the rest, watering the soil. “To Zag. And to your dad.”
A few dry grasses at the base of the stela rustled. A cloud sailed from Ost across the strait, casting a shadow on the sea.
“I have nothing to offer,” Kalaes muttered, a hand fisted in his hair, chin bent to his chest. “Not even a bunch of
como
flowers.”
“You came back.” Elei blamed the liquor for the sting in his eyes. “You kept them alive in your memory.” He reached into his pocket, drew out Kalaes’ braids. “And I’ve kept these.” He pushed them into Kalaes’ hand.
Kalaes looked up. Strange how the blue eye looked wider than the other, Elei thought, wider and so full of surprised pain. Hells, it was like looking into a mirror.
“You carried them with you all this time.” Kalaes lifted the braids in his fist and drew a deep breath. “I grew them—“
“I know.” Elei nodded. “In their memory.”
Kalaes looked away, blinking, then bent forward and dug into the soil. He placed the braids, coiled together, and refilled the small pit, then patted the soil on top. “Zag, Dad,” he whispered, his voice hoarse, “I’ll never forget you.”
Blindly he caught Elei’s hand, pulled it until it also rested on top of the small mount. “And this is our new brother.” He paused. “Elei Ster. He brought me back. Look over him like you look over me.”
Elei bent as if he’d been sucker-punched in the chest. But there was no pain, only a sense of joy, a joy too vast to contain. When Kalaes dipped his finger in the mud and painted three dots on his cheek, Elei mimicked him.
“This stands for family,” Kalaes said.
Family
. Elei looked across the strait to Ost, where he’d set off without a hope to his name, and smiled.
Albi. Pelia
.
I’m home
.
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