Defiant

by Aaron Hodges

  Watching the creatures now, Romaine’s jaw clenched with a hatred of his own. These creatures had taken everything from him, consumed a decade of his life, stolen his nation. And still they came, still they sought more. The greed that had first driven them to betray the Divine lived still within them; they would not stop until the world was theirs.

  Rage swept through Romaine like a wave, banishing fear and thought. Though the Flumeeren scouts had spread out behind him, in that moment there was only Romaine and the Tangata.

  With a roar, he charged. Shouts came from behind Romaine as the gelding leapt forward. He trusted his comrades would follow. Howls met his battlecry as the Tangata sprang towards him, crossing half the clearing in a single bound.

  Their speed was terrifying to behold, even on the snow-kissed ground. The creatures carried no weapons, but they hardly needed them. Ice slid down Romaine’s spine as the male drew ahead and the slate-grey eyes locked with his. Immediately the beast diverted its path, heading straight for the charging axeman.

  A wicked grin split Romaine’s face and he rose in the saddle, bellowing a challenge. Let it think him easy prey; this was not Romaine’s first encounter with the beasts. He raised his axe as the distance closed, waiting for the moment…

  Suddenly the Tangata was airborne, a bound of its powerful legs sending it soaring into the air—straight at Romaine. Beneath him, the gelding screamed and then it was rearing up, hooves lashing the air.

  Only that saved Romaine. Instead of him, the full strength of the Tangata struck the horse. A sickening crunch followed as the two came together, iron-shod hooves striking flesh. Yet it was not the Tangata that fell. With almost a sigh, Romaine’s mount toppled backwards, body limp.

  Cursing, Romaine kicked free of his stirrups and fell sideways, narrowly avoiding being crushed. In one fluid movement, he rolled to his feet, boots crunching on the icy ground, axe still in hand. He had a second to glimpse the now lifeless corpse of the gelding, its head snapped where the creature’s blow had struck—then the male was upon him.

  It came as little more than a blur, teeth bared, arms raised to tear him apart. In a second it dissolved the space between them, and again it leapt, a scream shaking the snow from the branches of nearby trees.

  This time, though, Romaine was ready. He swept his axe up, the twin points of its butterfly blades rising to meet his assailant. Mid-air, the creature could not adjust its attack, and with a soft crunch, its weight slammed down into the axe, driving the points deep into the creature’s chest.

  Triumph swept through Romaine—but a wild fist struck his shoulder. The axe was torn from his grasp as the blow sent him tumbling across the snowy earth. Stars flashed across his vision and he struggled to reclaim his senses, to regain his feet. Desperately he fumbled for the dagger on his belt; the beast could be on him any second. Finally he found the hilt and tore it loose. Swinging around, he gasped for breath, seeking his foe.

  But the Tangata had not moved. Romaine’s axe remained embedded in its flesh. Blood seeped from the wound, staining its tunic red. Slowly its head turned, and the grey eyes focused on Romaine. Fury flicked on the beast’s face and it tried to take a step. The effort was too much, even for this creature. Its legs gave way and it tumbled forward.

  Romaine flinched as the impact drove his axe deeper into the creature’s chest. It moved no more.

  He stood staring at his foe for a moment, but the satisfaction of its defeat was short lived. One more of the creatures was dead, but the death would not fill the emptiness…

  A scream came from across the meadow, drawing Romaine’s attention back to reality. His heart palpated as he recalled the second Tangata, then fell into the pit of his stomach as he saw the battle being fought across the clearing.

  One of the scouts was already dead, eyes staring lifelessly up at the sky, while the Perfugian recruit, Flagers, lay nearby, hands clasping desperately at the silver cords spilling from his stomach. A moan came from his throat as the intestines slipped through his fingers, and his head swung around, eyes fixing on Romaine. He tried to cry out, but his words emerged as little more than a whisper.

  Steeling his heart, Romaine forced his attention back to the battle. He had seen such wounds before—Flagers was already dead. But the lieutenant and the two remaining scouts could still survive. They had managed to keep their horses, though only the lieutenant still held his lance. Another lance lay broken on the ground nearby, while the last had been driven through the thigh of the female Tangata.

  Though terribly injured, the beast had managed to snap the lance in half. Its tip still jabbed through her thigh, dripping scarlet blood in the snow, but the other half she now flourished like a club, preventing the three horsemen from getting close enough to finish her.

  Romaine staggered to his fallen foe and kicked the Tangata onto its back, then retrieved his axe. Silently, he started towards the female, eager to put an end to the creature before it harmed anyone else.

  Before he could reach her, though, the female finally noticed its mate’s death. A terrible scream echoed around the clearing as it spun towards Romaine, and he saw again the madness in its eyes, the desire to rend and tear and kill.

  But for once the lieutenant acted without thinking. The only one left with a weapon, he urged his horse forward while the Tangata was distracted and drove the steel-tipped lance through the creature’s back.

  The awful howl was instantly cut short, and a thud followed as the beast crumpled to the snow. Silence returned to the clearing…only to be punctuated by the soft cries of Flagers.

  For an instant, Romaine kept his eyes fixed on the Tangata. Blood pounded in his ears and he still felt the need for battle within him, that terrible rage demanding he charge forward, axe raised, battlecry on his lips.

  But the fight was over, their enemies dead, and slowly the pounding subsided.

  Despair rose to take its place, and silently Romaine turned to look again at the boy. Before he realized what he was doing, Romaine staggered forward and dropped to one knee beside the Perfugian. There was nothing he could do for the lad—not even a doctor could have saved him from such a wound.

  “Romaine?” Flagers gasped, his voice trembling. “Romaine, it hurts…don’t know what happened. I’m…sorry.”

  “It’s okay, lad,” Romaine murmured. As he spoke, he reached for the dagger on his belt. “It’s going to be okay.”

  “It hurts, Romai…” The words trailed off as the boy’s eyes slid closed. A few moments later, his breathing ceased as well.

  Releasing the boy, Romaine sat back. His eyes were drawn to the blood pooling in the snow, still seeping from the wound he’d opened in the recruit’s groin. A lump lodged in his throat and he felt the boy’s lifeless eyes watching him, accusing. It had been a mercy, and yet…the face of another boy flickered into his mind. He lay not in snow but a bed of roses. Romaine scrunched his eyes closed, trying to banish the image.

  “Is he…?”

  A voice was calling from behind him. Shaking off his grief, Romaine stood and faced the lieutenant.

  “Gone,” he said shortly.

  The lieutenant swallowed, his eyes drawn to the corpse. He held his sword in hand now, its tip trembling. It was probably the first time he had faced the Tangata in battle.

  A flicker from across the clearing. The unfamiliar woman was standing beside the body of the male Tangata, staring at its gruesome remains. Her face was unusually pale for the Calafe and freckles dotted her cheeks, but the heavy fur coat and woollen leggings were familiar.

  Romaine watched as she knelt beside the Tangata. She seemed more curious than afraid. The woman couldn’t have more than twenty years to her name. What was she doing out here, all alone?

  Casting one last glance at the dead boy, Romaine let out a sigh, then started towards the young woman. Her head whipped around at the sound of his footsteps, and amber eyes widened, fixing on the bloody axe he still carried in one hand. Seeing her fear, Romaine paused, then
setting the weapon on the ground, he continued with empty hands.

  “Easy now,” he said.

  “You killed him,” the young woman murmured, rising to her feet and facing Romaine.

  She spoke in a strange, singsong accent unfamiliar to Romaine—though that was not unusual in Calafe. His people were a nomadic sort, and there were many groups who would spend months or even years apart from civilisation. The isolation bred strange tones, though if this woman belonged to such a group, where were the others?

  “Ay,” Romaine replied to her question. “It’s dead. You’re safe now, lass.”

  A tremor shook the woman and she raised a hand, as though to keep him back. Her other hung limp at her side, and Romaine realised she had been injured. Well, she’d gotten lucky if all the Tangata had given her was a broken arm—they were said to do terrible things to those they captured.

  “It’s okay,” Romaine said, trying again to comfort her. He reached out a hand. “We’ll take you to safety.”

  “No!”

  The woman’s voice echoed from the nearby trees as she leapt away from him. But whether from the cold or some unknown injury, her legs failed to support her weight, and she crumpled into a snowdrift with a muffled cry—quickly silenced.

  Romaine was at her side in an instant. Her broken arm lay at an awkward angle in the snow and her eyes were closed—she must have lost consciousness from the pain.

  “Is she alright?” the lieutenant asked. He approached with sword still in hand, as though the woman might yet somehow prove to be an enemy.

  Romaine placed a finger on the woman’s throat. Her pulse was racing and erratic, but strong, and he nodded as the lieutenant drew to a stop alongside him.

  “Her arm’s broken. Passed out from the pain, or maybe shock. We’d better get her on one of the horses.” There would be plenty spare, now.

  “Poor lass,” the lieutenant said as he looked at the woman. “What was she doing out here?”

  “I’d like to know that myself,” Romaine replied.

  “I’ll fetch Flagers’s horse,” the lieutenant murmured, then hesitated. “Shame, about the lad. I told him to hang back, but…” He shrugged and turned away.

  Romaine said nothing. What more was there to say? The boy had never had any business being out here, untrained, unprepared. But then, he’d had little choice in the matter. Unlike the citizens of Flumeer or Calafe, Perfugians did not decide their own fates. That was a matter for their betters, a judgement passed down by their Sovereigns.

  Rising, he lifted the woman in his arms and crossed to where one of the surviving scouts had gathered the horses. She was surprisingly heavy in her thick furs—or perhaps it was merely exhaustion finally catching him—but regardless, Romaine was relieved when he settled her in the saddle of Flagers’s horse. Taking care with her arm, he bound the woman so she would not fall, and then looked for a mount of his own.

  The dead scout’s horse had emerged from the battle unscathed, and before long they were on the trail once more, riding north. The battle had cost them precious time and the light faded quickly. The sun plummeted towards the western treeline, setting the horizon alight.

  It was still an hour from dark when the howling began in the forest behind them.

  Continue reading with… Warbringer

  Also by Aaron Hodges

  The Alfurian Chronicles

  Book 1: Defiant

  Book 2: Guardian

  Descendants of the Fall

  Book 1: Warbringer

  Book 2: Wrath of the Forgotten

  Book 3: Age of Gods

  Book 4: Dreams of Fury

  The Evolution Gene

  Book 1: The Genome Project

  Book 2: The Pursuit of Truth

  Book 3: The Way the World Ends

  The Sword of Light

  Book 1: Stormwielder

  Book 2: Firestorm

  Book 3: Soul Blade

  The Legend of the Gods

  Book 1: Oathbreaker

  Book 2: Shield of Winter

  Book 3: Dawn of War

  The Knights of Alana

  Book 1: Daughter of Fate

  Book 2: Queen of Vengeance

  Book 3: Crown of Chaos