Wrath of the Forgotten: Descendants of the Fall Book II

by Hodges, Aaron

  They sat in silence, listening for the telltale whispers of their pursuers. Breathing deeply, Erika strained her ears for hint of their approach, for sign they had been spotted. The acrid scent of burning pitch carried to her nose and she caught the occasional whisper, of voices on the breeze, the squeak of boards beneath boots, waves lapping upon a wooden hull, but the hunters came no closer, and slowly even those soft noises faded away.

  Silence returned to the night, and finally the Gemaho spy released her grip on the globe. Its light died away and the greater orb vanished, returning them to the world. Erika watched as the woman put the object away. It had to be another artefact from the Gods.

  They waited a few minutes more before the spy resumed her station at the tiller and directed them out into the currents.

  “Where did you find that?” Erika whispered as the wind filled their sails.

  The woman shrugged. “You are not the only one who searches for remnants from before The Fall, Archivist,” she replied.

  Erika nodded, resuming her seat at the bow. “Why don’t you use it all the time?”

  The woman frowned as she looked up from the rudder. “Have you not discovered the limitations of your own artefact, Archivist?”

  “Ah,” Erika nodded. “It draws from your own strength?”

  The spy obviously didn’t deign the question worthy of reply, for her lips remained pursed closed, eyes on the swirling mists. Erika let out a sigh, following her gaze, wondering at the situation she had gotten herself into. She had only this unnamed woman’s word that she could trust the king.

  “My name is Erika, by the way,” she murmured after a time, then: “What should I call you?

  Before, Erika had rarely bothered with names. Those worthy of her respect already knew her name, and she knew theirs. Those of lesser rank used the title “Archivist.” It was the same with all those who participated in the dance of power amongst the Flumeeren nobility. But after betraying the queen and fleeing her adopted nation, it no longer seemed quite…right.

  The spy did not reply immediately, and Erika sighed, returning her gaze to the darkness. It was going to be a long trip to Gemaho—

  “You may call me Maisie,” her companion finally whispered. “And I suggest you get some sleep. We cannot travel during the daylight. I will need someone to keep watch while I rest, or it will be a long three days to the Fortress Illmoor.”

  3

  The Soldier

  The Tangatan leader stood in the centre of the clearing, its back turned towards Lukys, gaze lifted to the cliffs hemming the valley. Long white hair hung across its broad shoulders and like most Tangata, its only weapon was a dagger worn on its belt. A plain tunic and cotton leggings would have suggested a simple upbringing amongst humans, but was normal attire for the Tangata. Indeed, with its stiff posture and hands clasped behind its back, there was an almost noble bearing about this individual.

  Lukys hesitated at the sight of the lone figure, glancing back at his Tangatan escort, but she said nothing. She had freed him of his bonds and now watched on with an expectant look. Taking his cue, Lukys swallowed and stepped into the clearing. Sunlight washed across his face and he felt his fears dissipate. Lifting his head to the sky, he drew strength from its warmth, the night’s chill banished in an instant.

  A flicker at the edge of his vision drew Lukys’s gaze back to the Tangatan leader. He swallowed as he found the creature now watching him, grey eyes seemingly darker despite the daylight. He’d never paid attention to the differences between individual Tangata, but there was something distinctive about the creature before him, an aura of power, of invincibility, that set his knees shaking.

  Human. The voice was louder than those of the guards, than the whispers of the others. Lukys grated his teeth, struggling to hold himself in place, to fight the urge to flee. It is time we spoke.

  Lukys shuddered, but he was slowly getting used to the voices, and he straightened. “I am a soldier of Perfugia,” he said shortly, hoping the creature was unaware of their true reputation, “and you will get nothing from me.”

  Perfugia? Laughter whispered in Lukys’s ears as the creature paced a circle around him. His courage wilted beneath that appraisal and he found himself shrinking, as though to escape his captor’s scrutiny. But there was no escaping the words in his mind. Ah yes, I see the blue beneath the filth. A fitting addition.

  Lukys flinched as the creature came to a stop before him. Its face was just a few inches from his own. A sickly smile twisted its lips as it leaned closer.

  Tell me, human, how does it feel to be betrayed by your own kind?

  A lump lodged in Lukys’s throat and he knew he was exposed, his every secret laid bare beneath this monster’s gaze. It knew he was a failure, that the Sovereigns of Perfugia sent the worst of their people to the frontier to die, rather than consume precious resources. His gaze dropped to the forest flaw.

  “My name is Lukys.” It felt important to speak the words, to remind himself that he was no longer the naïve man who had arrived in Fogmore all those weeks ago. He had made something of himself since those first days, had stood against the Tangata and creatures far worse. Straightening, he looked again at the Tangata. Suddenly his captor no longer seemed quite so intimidating. “What do you want, beast?”

  A scowl crossed the creature’s face. Respect, human. The words rumbled in his mind and he glimpsed the anger in those terrible grey eyes. I am called Adonis. You would do well to remember the name.

  An icy breeze blew across Lukys’s neck as the creature turned away, hands clasped behind its back once more. Lukys opened his mouth, then closed it, struggling to string together a sentence in his mind.

  “My apologies,” he said, finally managing to approximate something resembling words. “I…didn’t realise you used names.”

  Laughter rasped from the creature’s throat as it swung on him, causing Lukys to flinch.

  How little you humans think of us, its voice whispered in his mind.

  Lukys clenched his fists and met the creature’s gaze. He could see the loathing there, the hatred. “Why didn’t you kill me?” he asked abruptly.

  The Tangatan leader did not reply immediately. It stood watching him with those cold eyes, thin lips pursed, long white hair waving gently in a breeze. Anger touched Lukys as he suffered that piercing gaze, and he found himself stepping forward.

  “You killed my friends,” he snarled, the fiery heat in his stomach giving him courage. “Slaughtered them, so why spare us? Why go to the trouble of dragging us all this way?”

  Still the creature did not reply, only stood staring at him, unblinking. The rage left Lukys as quickly as it had appeared and he found himself retreating a step, a sudden terror sweeping through his veins. The Tangatan leader slowly shook its head.

  So…archaic, your kind. Its voice sounded amused. Screaming your thoughts for all the world to hear.

  It advanced a step and Lukys tried to retreat further. A hand like iron caught him by the arm—he’d forgotten the female still stood nearby. Unable to break her grasp, he stood fixed in place while the leader approached.

  Perhaps we are toying with you. Is that not what you humans do, when you take our people captive? It paused, still eyeing him, head bent slightly to the side. Or is it for some other purpose? Tell me, Lukys of Perfugia, what is the fate of my brothers and sisters you take beyond these lands?

  “I…” Lukys trailed off.

  He’d never seen the captives Adonis spoke of—Perfugia did not keep Tangatan captives. But he had read of such practices at the academy. The creatures were extraordinarily difficult to take alive, but human armies had on occasion been known to subdue a Tangata enough to be captured.

  Initially, the Flumeeren physicians had hoped to discover the secrets of Tangatan physiology from those captives. But in ten years, they’d made little progress, and eventually the prisoners had been put to other uses…

  Images flickered into Lukys’s mind, sketches he had g
limpsed in his textbooks, of Tangata in cages at the Flumeeren court, of beasts with arms and legs severed, of creatures tormented by their human gaolers. Lukys had thought little of the images at the time—after all, the Tangata were a distant threat to remote Perfugia, an inhuman enemy that occasionally called for them to send soldiers to the frontier…

  A soft growl was the only warning Lukys had before Adonis caught him by the throat. He gasped, but the sound was abruptly cut off as the Tangata lifted him into the air. Desperate, Lukys kicked out. His boot connected with the creature’s chest, but Adonis took no notice.

  And you call us the monsters! Adonis’s voice practically screamed into his mind.

  The grip around Lukys’s throat tightened, fingers digging into his flesh. He would have screamed if he could have drawn in enough breath. Instead, all he could manage was a pitiful squawk. Strength fading, he clasped at Adonis’s fingers, trying to pry them loose, but there was no fighting this creature. Darkness circled his vision and the strength began to fade from his limbs. His mouth opened and closed, straining for even a wisp of oxygen.

  Adonis! a voice cried in his mind.

  Then suddenly Lukys was soaring through the air. He cried out, still aware enough to half curl into a ball before he struck the ground. The impact robbed him of whatever breath remained in his lungs. Dark spots danced across his eyes as he wheezed, gasping, until finally his chest filled.

  Rolling onto his side, Lukys sucked in great lungfuls of the chill morning air, hardly able to believe he was alive. When he finally looked around, he was surprised to find the female Tangata standing across from Adonis. No sounds passed between the two, and yet…Lukys heard snatches of their voices. He closed his eyes, trying to concentrate through the pain, to draw meaning from the whispers…

  Need…future…assignment…

  Groaning, Lukys slumped back against the ground. It was no good. He could understand nothing from the snippets. It seemed he could only make out full sentences if the creatures directed their thoughts at him. He wondered why the female had interfered—Adonis was clearly her superior. It seemed they needed him for something…but what, Lukys couldn’t begin to understand.

  Bastard, he thought, looking again at Adonis.

  Across the clearing, the Tangatan leader’s head whipped around, the silver eyes fixing on Lukys. A wicked grin appeared on the creature’s face and suddenly it was stalking towards him. Lukys tried to scramble away, but Adonis was faster still, and before Lukys could stand he was clutching him by the front of the shirt and hauling him to his feet.

  So you can Speak! the creature exclaimed. There was triumph in the creature’s words as they sounded in Lukys’s mind. You’re the one we’ve been hearing.

  Lukys struggled to break free of the Tangata’s grip, and to his surprise, Adonis released him. He staggered, then slowly backed away. “What are you talking about?” he croaked, throat still in agony.

  You’re different, Lukys. The Tangata’s words chased after him. We can Hear you. We’ve been hearing you for weeks.

  What? Lukys whispered in his mind, staring at the creature, unable to believe…

  We thought it was the Anahera at first, Adonis continued, though Lukys did not recognise the name. But no, even young, she would not be so unschooled.

  “What are you talking about?” Lukys said aloud, rejecting that inner dialogue. It felt unnatural, projecting a thought for this creature to hear.

  Laughter answered the question. How little your species understands of our power, the Tangata said eventually. Then Adonis leaned in close. Did you not wonder how we discovered your intrusion into our territory, how we found the hidden Birthing Grounds?

  Lukys shook his head, but unbidden, memories flickered into his mind, of the strange dreams he’d experienced ever since arriving in Fogmore. He’d had another of the nightmares that night in the mountains, the night before the Tangata had found them…

  “No…” he said. “It’s not possible.”

  It had been him all along. The Archivist had accused Cara of betraying them, before they’d learned her true identity. But Lukys had seen the map, had known where the Archivist was leading them, the location of the ancient site of the Gods. Unknowingly, Lukys has betrayed them all.

  He sank to his knees, thinking again of the bodies they’d found in the abandoned settlement. His fellow Perfugians, betrayed by his careless mind, dead because of him.

  I should thank you, Adonis continued, and Lukys could hear the disdain in his words. We have worked long to keep the secrets of the ancient world from humanity. Had we not arrived first, I shudder to think what new magics might have fallen into human hands. Though it was a shame the Old Ones were…lost.

  Adonis’s words ended up abruptly, and Lukys thought he caught a flicker of something in the creature’s eyes. Fear? A shiver touched him as he recalled what had waited in those tunnels beneath the earth. The Tangata that had arrived before them had woken something—the “Old Ones” Adonis spoke of. It seemed even the Tangata feared the creatures.

  “What are they?” he asked.

  A darkness crept across Adonis’s face and he quickly looked away. The clearing fell still, and Lukys knelt, waiting, wondering…

  The last hope of the Tangata.

  The words were so quiet Lukys wasn’t sure whether Adonis had meant for him to hear them. He did not respond, and after a moment the Tangata shook himself. Drawing in a breath, he turned to where the female still stood watching.

  Put him back with the other one. The order was directed at the female, but it seemed the Tangata were able to make their thoughts heard to more than one listener, should they wish. The Matriarch will wish to question him further. Perhaps together we can find the source of his ability.

  With that, Adonis clasped his hands behind his back and turned away. Lukys shivered. The action was unnervingly similar to a nobleman dismissing a servant. Shaking his head, he rose as the female approached. Keeping her eyes averted from Adonis, she took his hands and bound them again, thankfully in front of him this time.

  She started to lead him away, but Adonis spoke again before they reached the edge of the clearing.

  Sophia. Lukys’s escort froze at the name, her head slowly turning to look back. The Tangatan leader stood staring after them. Your insolence has not gone unnoticed.

  The female Tangata swallowed. Yes, Adonis.

  Then they were retreating, the female leading him back into the trees. Lukys found himself staring at her back, remembering how she had interfered, stopped Adonis from killing him.

  “Sophia…” he said suddenly. Ahead, the Tangata froze, spinning to look at him, eyes wide. Lukys spoke into the silence: “That’s your name?”

  Light filtered through the canopy overhead, revealing the confusion on his captor’s face. Seeing such a human emotion made it easier to ignore those terrible grey eyes, and Lukys found himself taking note of her other features. A small scar marked her cheek, accented by copper skin tanned in the southern summers. Twigs and branches tangled in her ash-brown hair and dirt streaked her plain-spun tunic and leggings, though she was probably cleaner than Lukys after his weeks in the wilderness.

  Yes, her reply came finally, a frown still creasing her forehead.

  “Why did you save me?” Lukys blurted out before he lost his nerve.

  The Tangata leaned her head to the side. You killed my partner, she replied, her frown deepening. You are mine.

  4

  The Fugitive

  Exhaustion weighed heavily on Erika’s shoulders as the soldier led them through the narrow corridor. Wide windows on the wall opened to the dawn, granting her a view of the shadowed gorge beyond the ramparts of the Illmoor Fortress. After three nights of sailing in darkness, they had chased the rising sun to arrive before the daylight. She could see it even now, its orange glow just appearing on the distant cliffs.

  It almost felt strange, to be on her feet as daylight approached. They had spent their days in hiding, the
boat pulled in amongst tall reeds that dotted the shallows of the Illmoor. Each day she had lain waiting in that boat for their pursuers to catch them, for the arrows to find her, to strike her down.

  Now she was finally safe from the queen’s reach. All that remained to be seen was whether the King of Gemaho would keep to his word. She prayed it was so. Walking the corridors of the Illmoor Fortress, she was in his power now.

  Guards had met them on the shore outside the fortress, crossbows trained on their little sailboat. Thankfully, they had lowered the weapons when they’d seen Maisie. With the guards help they had been able to lift Cara from the boat with minimal effort. By then they’d covered her wings with a heavy fur coat, thinking it better not to announce her presence to all the world.

  Finally they were led into a high-ceilinged room lit by brass chandeliers and furnished with white velvet sofas and tables of glass and steel. The lavish sight brought relief for Erika—she’d half-feared they were being led to the dungeons. The sensation was immediately followed by one of discomfort. Her only bath for the last two weeks had been an unplanned dip in the river water. She had long since ceased to detect her own scent, but with her hair stiff with mud and clothes stained brown, she had no illusions about the current state of her appearance.

  She turned to the guards to ask about a private chamber to bathe, but they were already vanishing into the corridor. The door swung closed behind them with a distinct thunk that suggested a locking bar had been slid into place on the other side. She looked at Maisie, but the woman seemed unconcerned. Cara, on the other hand, smirked.

  “Looks like we’re both prisoners now,” Cara muttered. Her chains clinked as she wandered across to one of the sofas and slumped into its cushions.

  Erika winced as dirt from the Goddess’s clothes left streaks of dirt on the velvet. “I don’t think our host will appreciate you ruining—”

  “Bitch,” Cara interrupted. The scowl the Goddess wore suggested she knew exactly what she was doing.