Rex Aftermath (Elei's Chronicles) (23 page)

Wait a minute...
Above the temple?

He looked up and hissed a curse. What he’d taken for statues and gargoyles on the roof were planes. Their front was carved into the shape of sharp-fanged beasts with crests and their wings seemed to be made of bone and cartilage with membranes stretched between them. They even had tails — long and barbed.

They looked alive. Did that tail move?

No, dammit. Breathe.
He bent his pounding head and sucked a hitching breath.
Damn you, Rex, are you the one doing this?

When he looked up again, the beast-like planes were still, lights flickering along their sides.

Okay, that was... good. The temple and the planes. Two with one stroke. Three, rather, including him.

Better not think about that.

“We await the Attalids,” the presenter said, her voice lilting, making it sound like a question.

On the platform a woman stepped forward and raised her hands. Her long pale hair whipped in the wind. “First we shall perform the sacrifice. Kill Rex for all rebels to see how they’ll be brought down.”

“When?” The presenter didn’t sound pleased. “You can see the battle is raging.”

“The boy should be on his way to the temple as we speak.”

That sounded like his cue. Licking his dry lips, he straightened and stepped out of the shadow of the staircase, onto the stone platform.

Heads turned toward him and the Gultur scent rose, suffocating, wrapping around his neck, cutting off his air.

Poena tugged on his hand. “Come, Elei. It’s time.”

“Here he comes,” a tall Gultur, one hand raised toward him. “Where are his guards?”

“Just take him to the altar.” The priestess sniffed. “This will not take long.”

You bet it won’t.
He stalked toward her, the bag thumping against his back, the pain in his side gone in a wash of adrenaline that made his heart thump in his chest. Gazes streaked over him, glancing off like blades on snakeskin armor.

“It’s just a boy,” the presenter said, her tone dismissive.

You’ve never seen anything like me
, he thought as he reached the altar and put down his bag.
Not a child and not a man, an orphan but with the best family ever, not a King and not a slave, not sick or healthy, not alone and yet...

And yet. Here to blow your mind.

He snorted. Struggled not to laugh out loud.

Mad.

“Prepare him.”

“Oh no need,” Elei said, shrugging off his jacket. “I’ve come prepared.” He pulled the t-shirt over his head and let it fall.

“What is...?” The presenter’s voice rose to a shriek. “Are those explosives? Oh goddess!”

“You move, I blow us up,” he said and hooked his thumbs in the safety hooks. He turned in a circle until they backed away. “Good. Now.” He knelt by the bag and pulled out the bunches of explosive tubes, piling them on the floor.

“You will not escape with—”

“Shut up,” he said conversationally. “Or my finger might slip on the safety.”

“You can push it back in, you have a few seconds before—”

“Silence.”

And quiet spread as if by magic, the only sounds the fire crackling on the table and the hems of long dresses whisking the floor.

He looked up at the screen. He should be seeing the presenter, or Dakru City, but the screen was a flat red surface. His pulse boomed in his ears like waves in deep caves, and his hands shook.

He’d die only seeing what Rex chose to show him. Maybe it was for the best.

“Are you Rex?” the presenter asked, her voice shaky.

“I said my name isn’t Rex.” He placed his hands over the explosives. “It’s Elei. Elei Ster.”

Pulling the explosives from his pockets and waistband, he laid them on the floor and untied the others from around his waist. Using the twine, he strung them together through the hooks in two groups.

The priestess shouted, “Don’t—”

He pulled. Grabbed one bunch of strung-together explosives and threw them onto the roof, at the Attalids.

A few seconds
, the presenter had said.

I want to live.

Lurching to his feet, he sprinted across the stone platform to the edge and plunged down toward the marble urn.

So far down. He fell and fell along the gleaming smooth marble wall, the air rushing in his ears.

Except I can’t swim
, he thought as the tumbled and twisted in the air.
I can’t—

He struck the frigid water —
pain, pain
— and sank deep.

The world overhead detonated, booming into the water. A shock wave hit his back like a fist, sending bursts of light behind his eyelids. His head slammed into a wall.

Blessed blackness came.

Chapter Eighteen

“We’ll retreat,” Hera said. “Leave and rescue Elei and Ale.”

“They won’t let us retreat,” Mantis said. “They’re surrounding us.”

“Then we’ll crush them.” With a savage snarl, she turned the tower around once more, prepared to roll over the encroaching aircars. A drum beat inside her head.

A familiar face appeared on the giant screens. Hera’s hand automatically tugged the accelerator down, slowing.

Elei.
He was kneeling on the floor of Regina’s temple, but did not look like someone about to be executed. His face was full of determination. “What is he...?”

Fire and rubble exploded onscreen. Bodies flew. Blood sprayed the cameras.

Hera gasped.

“Holy shit,” Mantis muttered, clambering to his feet. “Did you see that?”

“He blew up the temple,” Sacmis said, her voice wavering.

Fire. The screens were full of fire. A buzz filled Hera’s ears, a dull roar, as if a gale buffeted her but she could not feel it.

Elei
. He was dead.

“Oh gods, he destroyed the Bone Tower fleet,” Mantis whispered. “The Attalids are gone.”

Gone
. Elei was gone, too. Hera felt strangely detached and empty. Had Alendra also been caught in the blast?

Smoke billowed on the screens, and rubble kept falling. The images blurred and Hera had to close her stinging eyes. Was her entire family dead?

Devastation. Darkness. Her chest ached.

Stupid mortals, you do not need them, the voice in her head whispered, you do not—

Hera scrunched her eyes closed. Shut up. It’s time for the gods to listen. I cannot do this anymore. Give me a miracle.

 “Hera.” Sacmis grabbed her shoulders and shook her. “Hera!”

“I cannot,” Hera murmured, struggling to draw air. She opened her eyes. “I cannot continue.”

“Yes, you can. You can and you will. We depend on you.” Sacmis still wore the damn visor, the damn helmet, and they sat inside the damn machine that had not brought them victory, even though they’d sacrificed their friends for it.

Useless. A waste. A damn waste.

“Move over,” Mantis said. “Hera, let me drive.”

She let him pull her to her feet and slumped behind the chairs, her head in her hands, not sure how to climb out of this new version of the netherhells.

Not sure she could.

 ***

“The temple is gone,” Poena said, standing on the smoking ruins. “Erased.”

“That’s what you wanted, isn’t it?” Elei frowned. Smoke billowed around him, thick and black, and somehow he knew he ought to be coughing and wiping tears from his eyes.

She lifted a delicate brow. “You served well.”

He kicked at the rubble. “Happy now?”

A grin spread over her small face, making her eyes shine. “Yes, I am. I feared you might bow out for a moment. Craving normalcy, always. Your greatest fear held you back.”

“My greatest fear?”

She poked a finger at his leg. “You know what I’m talking about. That you won’t find your way home. That Kalaes will decide you’re not worth it and choose Dain over you. That Alendra might decide you’re not worth the fright you put her through and walk away. That it was all for nothing.”

Oh, that.
He ducked his head, feeling exposed and prickly all over. “Yeah, well. You didn’t leave me much choice, did you?”

“Don’t fool yourself. You made that choice. You chose the sacrifice because you love them. And they’d choose you no matter what you do.”

He shook his head, because he couldn’t know that and she was right. He was afraid. Why shouldn’t he be? Everyone left sooner or later. Albi. Pelia.

“Stop it.” She nudged him again. “It’s done.”

All done.
He looked down at his boots, shiny, not a speck of dust on them, his black pants. “If this is real,” he whispered, “then I’m dead, right? Have to be. I blew up the temple.”

And why did he feel they’d been there before?

“Silly.” Poena shook her blond ringlets and laughed. “This is only a dream.”

Yeah, right.
“And how do I wake up?”

“Pf.” She grabbed his hand and tugged. “Just follow the path.”

He turned and saw it. A glowing path leading down the hill. People stood there, a small crowd, and now he could make out the faces. Kalaes, Alendra, Hera, Sacmis, Jek, Afia, a crowd of street kids. They waved.

Hesitantly he lifted his hand to return the greeting. “Are you coming with me?”

“I can’t,” she whispered. “I’m part of the dream. We’ll meet again one day. Goodbye, Elei.”

Alarmed, he looked down, where her hand held his, light and soft like a flower. It was shimmering, fading like smoke. “Wait,” he said. “Poena, wait.”

“No more waiting,” she said and pulled away. “Go now or it may be too late.” She smiled, a brightness in her face that hurt his eyes, and nudged him toward the path. “I release you.”

But he didn’t want to go. Wasn’t sure he wanted to walk down that path. He felt good right now — no pain, no fear. Everything so luminous and peaceful.

A gnarled hand patted his shoulder and he glanced up into Albi’s lined face. “You can’t stay.” She pushed him toward the path and he stumbled down, staring at her over his shoulder.

“I missed you,” he said, his voice thick, his eyes burning. “Can’t I stay with you?”

“Another time,” she promised, her eyes crinkled and kind.

“Elei.” Another hand caught his and pulled him onto the shining path. “Son.” Pelia looked younger than he remembered, her dark hair glossy and her cheeks flushed. “I’ll guide you.”

He let her guide him along, too stunned to talk. “You...” he stammered.

“I’m sorry for all this. You’ve done enough. More than enough, more than I ever expected.” She stopped, turned to face him. “I loved you from the moment I laid eyes on you in that factory. You’re my bright light. I hope you’ll find what you have sought.” She glanced at the path. “Give my love to Kalaes. And now wake up.”

***

“Wake up,” a gruff voice said. “Come on, fe, breathe!”

Kalaes?
Elei trusted Kalaes with his life, so he tried to breathe as instructed.

Next thing he knew he was coughing up his lungs and stomach, spewing water through his mouth and nose.

“That’s it,” he heard a female voice say, as he was pushed on his side, puking and gasping, his throat burning like fire. “Spit it all out.”

“Dammit, I should’ve known you’d pull this sort of stunt again. Here of all places. Pissing citadel.” Kalaes patted Elei’s back. “I was sure I wouldn’t make it in time, with the damn screens showing the explosion and...”

Elei’s ears rang so loud he missed the rest of the rant, and he was too busy puking to pay attention. His vision kept going dark and he fought to keep the shrinking patch of light from fading.

He was dripping wet. The chill wind stung his skin. The voices kept a debate over him as he choked and hacked.

“... To go... carry him... fast...”

“I got him,” Kalaes said and suddenly Elei was airborne, slung over a padded shoulder.

Oh shit.

He kept coughing, Kalaes’ shoulder bones pressing into his middle, cutting off what little air he’d managed to squeeze in. He shuddered.

“Ale,” he mumbled, his body flaring with pain pissing everywhere, bones, muscles and joints all screaming at him.

Gunshots sounded and bullets zipped. He was back, alright. Right in the middle of the war. Smoking ruins, check. Billowing smoke, check.

Yeah, he was awake, dammit, and reality hurt like a bitch. He could use Iset’s painkillers now.

“Put me down,” he wheezed and he was dropped to his feet. He fell to his knees, gasping.

“Come on,” Kalaes snapped, grabbing his arm and hauling him upright. “Run.”

They did, both limping and staggering, holding onto each other. The smoke was clearing as they went down the hill of the temple, and an aircar loomed, its door open.

Déjà vu.

Only it wasn’t Hera waiting for them at the ladder. It was Iset, gesturing for them to hurry.

Iset.
That meant...

Alendra poked her head out of the door and he stumbled, Kalaes’ hold keeping him from kissing the ground.

She was okay. Iset hadn’t taken her to safety as she’d promised, but he couldn’t be angry. Damn, his eyes burned.
Pissing smoke
.

Going up the ladder almost defeated him. He didn’t think he had any broken bones but his knees felt like rubber, refusing to hold him. Alendra reached over the deck and dragged him up, Bestret’s dark head joining the blond one, strong hands gripping his wrist and pulling.

He landed on the aircar deck and rolled over, groaning.

Oh yeah, reality hurt, but it was worth it, seeing Alendra’s worried face over him. He opened his mouth to say her name but a coughing fit wracked him and he turned on his side as his lungs tried to turn themselves inside out.

Gods, how much water had he swallowed?

“Let’s go,” Kalaes barked and lifted Elei to his feet with Bestret’s help. “Pissing hells, fe, you’re bleeding like a stuck dog. What did you hit?”

“Stitches,” he wheezed, hanging between them, trying to get his legs to cooperate. “Must’ve blown some.”

“Stitches?” Alarm colored Kalaes’ voice, and then they were inside the aircar and the door hissed shut. “When did that happen?”

“Brace yourselves!” an unfamiliar woman’s voice shouted and they were thrown back to the floor.

Ow, dammit.

The windows exploded in a shower of shards. The aircar zigzagged.

“Incoming!” Iset yelled, cocking her longgun. “Hold on.”

Yeah, on to what?
The world spun.

She fired round after round. An impact rocked them, then another. Elei’s ears rang and he could only lie there and ride the pain.

“So what’s your damn plan?” Kalaes shouted.

No reply for a while as the aircar took a sharp left turn and red hazed Elei’s eyes. Bullets slammed into the back, smashing the windows. Something exploded right next to Kalaes’ head and he dropped forward, covering his head with his hands.

“If we make it to the main square,” Iset hollered, “we could blend in the chaos and find a way out. They’ll be sending patrols to assess the situation around the defensive wall and to secure the roads.”

Another impact from the side sent them rolling. Elei hit the wall and his brain blanked out for a moment. He heard Alendra call his name. Kalaes was cursing.

Gods, Elei couldn’t catch his breath. He coughed, his ribs screaming at him, and curled on his side, biting his lip not to whimper.

“How much farther?” Kalaes asked. “Elei’s bleeding and I need to bandage—”

Another impact rocked them. Maybe they wouldn’t make it. Elei concentrated on not throwing up. If he started he wasn’t sure he’d be able to stop.

“That’s the square,” Bestret said, shuffling toward the back and propping the barrel of her gun through the broken window. “Lie low.”

Kalaes muttered something under his breath and crawled toward Elei. His face was pale and streaked with red.

The noise of aircar engines and helicopters flying overhead crashed into the vehicle like a physical force. Visored Gultur ran among the idling aircars, shouting instructions and commands, the light glinting off their helmets, making Elei dizzier. 

He closed his eyes and gritted his teeth.

They stalled for a while, strobing lights sending blinding slivers through Elei’s lids. Iset whispered something and their driver replied. Long moments rolled by.

“Follow that patrol,” Bestret said and then they were moving again, lurching forward. “Stay close, but go slowly and keep to the back of the formation.”