Watching at Erika sitting amongst the Gemaho, Romaine felt himself a fool. She had convinced him to trust her, to believe she was the long-lost princess of Calafe, but it had all been a ploy, a way to escape the clutches of the queen.
“So you admit to the crime,” the queen snarled.
Behind the king, Erika tensed, but Nguyen laughed and gestured her forward. The woman hesitated, but one of the soldiers prodded the backside of her horse, and with a nicker it trotted forward until she sat alongside the king. His face hardened as he turned and regarded the queen once more.
“I am here because a foreign monarch has camped an army on my doorstep,” he said, and now his voice had lost all humour. “Gemaho does not take kindly to threats against our sovereignty. I would ask you to remove this army from my border, lest blood is once again spilt between the kingdoms of man.”
The queen sneered at his words. “So now the cowardly king concerns himself with the kingdoms of man,” she spat. Clutching her reins, she stared across the field at the enemy king. “Surrender the thief, and the Goddess Cara, and perhaps I will consider leaving your pitiful walls standing.”
Nguyen stared back at them, his expression kept carefully masked. Beside him, however, Erika was a picture of terror, her carefully crafted persona shattered by the queen’s threats. Romaine couldn’t help but feel a touch of satisfaction as he watched her squirm. He cast his eyes over the other soldiers, but there was no sign of Cara. He clenched a fist and swallowed another outburst.
“I am afraid the Calafe princess has requested my asylum,” the king said finally. “In respect for my fallen brother king, that is a pact I will not break.”
Romaine’s heart lurched at the king’s words—not least because this was the man who had abandoned his nation to its doom. Teeth clenched, he looked from Nguyen to Erika. Did the man truly believe her claim, or was he using it as a political tool, a weapon he could wield against the queen?
“What nonsense is this?” the queen hissed, her eyes flicking from the king to Erika. “The bitch is no princess.”
Mock surprise showed on the king’s face. “You did not know?” he gasped, then tisked. “Amina, I am disappointed. I thought your spies were better than that.”
The queen narrowed her eyes and a strained silence followed. Romaine guessed that Amina was weighing the king’s words, trying to decipher whether he spoke the truth. Erika’s potential royalty might mean little, or her appearance could stir up unrest amongst the hundreds of Calafe refugees camped outside her capital.
“You may keep the Archivist,” Amina said finally, though her voice was strained. “It is the artefact she uncovered which concerns me. Her expeditions were funded by Flumeeren coin—the gauntlet belongs to me.”
“The gauntlet?” the king murmured. Then his eyebrows lifted as though he had suddenly remembered something, and he pulled off one of his riding gloves. A gauntlet of silver steel was revealed beneath. “You mean this?”
For just a second, the queen’s mask cracked, and Romaine saw the terrible rage simmering beneath the surface. Around him, her guards recoiled, hands tightening on spears and swords, but the king only held up the gauntleted hand. His eyes glinted in the sunlight.
“I’ll admit, it is an interesting trinket.”
“The Archivist had no right to gift it to you. It belongs to me,” the queen hissed through clenched teeth.
“Is that so?” the king mused.
He chuckled, and with his free hand he grasped the gauntlet around his wrist. There was a muffled hiss, as of steam from a kettle, and even in the bright daylight the metal began to glow. Then something went click and he slid the gauntlet from his hand.
“Take it,” he said, tossing it across the open ground. It struck the ground before the queen with a heavy thud. “Its power did not...sit right with me anyway,” he added with a smile.
The queen stared at him for a long moment before turning her eyes to the gauntlet. Romaine swallowed as he glimpsed the greed there. He had seen what that gauntlet was capable of, the power it held. In the span of a second it could reduce grown men to agony, could knock even the Tangata from their feet.
The queen indicated for Yasin to collect the artefact. Eyes never leaving the enemy, the man dismounted and claimed the weapon, then handed it to Amina. She took it reverently, though not without another glance at the king.
Still sitting on his horse, Nguyen spread his hands. “So, we have peace then?”
The queen’s eyes narrowed. “What of the Goddess?” she asked. “She was taken against her will. Flumeer will not stand idle while you assault the personage of the Divine.”
The king chuckled. “I would have thought your Gods better able to protect themselves,” he replied. He waved a hand, as though to dismiss Amina’s concerns. “I will speak with the Goddess, though I believe she has already made arrangements for her future.”
“Liar,” Romaine snapped, the king’s words finally pushing him beyond the bounds of reason. “You took Cara against her will.”
“You must be Romaine.” The king smiled as their eyes met. “Good to finally make your acquaintance. I have heard much of the last soldier of Calafe. Cara was most concerned for your health.”
Romaine was forced to bite back a rude retort as the queen raised her hand. “My army will not be leaving while Her Divine Personage remains your prisoner, Nguyen.”
The king let out a sigh. “Then it seems we are at an impasse.”
Amina’s eyes were hard as stone as she stared him down. “I know the Divine was brought here in chains by the woman who stands beside you, Nguyen,” she grated. A growl rumbled from Romaine’s chest at her words, but the queen went on: “I will not stand for it. Grant the Goddess her freedom by the morrow, or the bloodshed that follows will be on your hands.”
With that, the queen turned her horse and started back towards the camp. For a moment, Romaine sat on his own horse, staring at Erika. The Archivist shrank beneath his gaze, before she finally broke and tugged on her reins, turning away. Shaking his head at her cowardice, Romaine went after the queen.
“—really his daughter?” He caught the queen’s words as he approached.
Riding alongside her, Yasin shrugged. “Was a long time ago, but it could be true. Hair is the right colour.”
“Romaine,” the queen said as he came alongside her, “what do you think?”
“She claimed the same to me on the banks of the Illmoor,” he grunted.
Amina cursed. “Nguyen is no fool. If he says it’s true, more than likely he’s right.”
“Does it change things?” Yasin asked.
The queen did not reply immediately. Her eyes had fallen to the gauntlet she held across her saddle pommel. “What game is he playing, giving it up so easily?” she murmured. Then she shook her head and looked at Yasin, as though finally hearing his question. “No,” she replied. “I don’t believe so.”
“Then I’ll have my men ready by nightfall,” Yasin replied.
“What’s this about?” Romaine asked softly.
“Nguyen has been a step ahead of me since all of this began,” the queen replied, “but no more. This time, I know what he’s planning to do next.”
“How?” Romaine breathed.
“Because it’s what I would do.” A grin spread across the queen’s face. “Are you ready for a rescue mission, Calafe?”
Romaine swallowed, clenching the reins in his fist. “Anything for Cara.”
The queen nodded. Then her eyes returned to the gauntlet, and she held it up to the light. A twitch tugged at her cheek, but then she seemed to steel herself, and in one fluid movement, she slid her hand into the ancient artefact. Light burst from the shimmering links as she clenched her fist.
“Good,” she breathed, “because it’s time we took back the initiative.”
12
The Soldier
Lukys woke to darkness. For a moment he felt panic, that the nightmares of his sleep had somehow followed
him to the real world. His heart hammered in his chest and he cried out, fumbling desperately at the black, and was rewarded by slamming his hands into something solid. Pain lanced through his fingers and he cursed, rolling away—
Thump.
The breath hissed from Lukys’s lungs as he toppled off the ledge on which he’d been lying and slammed into the ground. He lay there groaning for a moment, memories slowly returning to him.
After his encounter with the Matriarch, Sophia had led him to the back of the basilica. There an opening hidden behind the dais had revealed a staircase leading down into the earth. Below, they’d discovered a seemingly endless corridor leading away into the depths of the earth, lined by iron doors.
A prison.
Sophia had not spoken as she locked him in his cell, leaving him alone in this awful darkness. Lukys had spent the hours since pondering his fate. Why had Sophia locked him in this place, if he was to be her slave? What was a prison even doing hidden beneath the Calafe’s Basilica to the Fall?
Eventually Lukys had fallen asleep on the low bench that lined the walls, though there was no way of telling for how long. Time did not seem to move in this dark place. He found himself wondering what had happened to Dale and Travis and all the others. Had they too been locked in this awful place? He’d tried yelling through the heavy iron door, but from the way his voice echoed in the tiny space, he guessed little noise escaped.
A shiver ran down his spine as he began to wonder how long he would be kept here. How much time would it take before he went mad in the absolute black, robbed of all sense of time, of hope? He had found a crevasse of water in his first moments within the cell, but his stomach was already starting to rumble. Would they feed him, or was starvation part of his punishment?
Lukys…
Lukys yelped and almost fell off the bench as Sophia’s voice whispered in his mind. He swung around, half expecting to find that the Tangata had snuck into his cell. But that was impossible—the first thing he’d done was run his hands around the walls in hope of finding another way out, and there’d been nothing. Slowly he turned towards the door. She was outside.
“What do you want?” he snapped, then cursed as his words echoed within the cell.
She must have heard him though, for laughter whispered into his thoughts. Careful, you’ll wake the dead with such noise. She paused, before adding: This would seem a good opportunity to practice Speaking...Lukys.
The hairs on the back of his neck lifted at her words. The dead?
That’s better. There was amusement in Sophia’s inner voice. It’s said that many of our ancestors perished in places such as this, in the time before The Fall. Perhaps their spirits do haunt these corridors.
The Tangata believe in spirits? Lukys frowned; even after a week with the creatures, he hadn’t contemplated the thought they might have a concept of an afterlife. A dozen questions rose unbidden in his mind, but he brushed them off. Now was not the time for scholarship. What is this place, then?
Another of our Birthing Grounds. The Calafe tried to cover it up, but my people are good at sniffing out secrets.
Lukys nodded to himself, recalling how the Tangata had managed to locate the entrance to the other ancient site, despite it lying buried in an empty plateau.
Why did you bring me here?
There was a pause before Sophia replied. We have been assigned, she said finally, as though that explained everything.
Frustration touched Lukys and he crossed to the door, placing his head against the cold metal. “But what does that mean?” he hissed out loud, trying to cast the thought through the iron at the same time.
I told you—it means you are mine, Lukys. There was a pause.
Lukys’s skin crawled at her words. So that’s it, then, he murmured, turning away from the door, his heart suddenly racing. You’re going to lock me here in the dark forever, taunt me and torture me, all because I killed your partner?
His words were followed by a long silence and he closed his eyes, thinking she’d left him again. Panic touched him and he realised he didn’t want to be alone down here, trapped, starving, lost. Better he had someone’s company, even if it was only to punish him.
A sudden clang came from the door as Sophia drew back the locking mechanism. Lukys leapt as a soft light spilled into his cell, first just a fine crack where the door opened, then growing larger to reveal a lantern. He swallowed as Sophia entered the cell, retreating the rest of the way to the rear of his little prison. But she made no move towards him, only watched him for a moment with those terrifying eyes, then sat herself on the bench. She placed the lantern down beside her.
I do not seek to hurt you, Lukys.
For a moment, Lukys did not understand the words she’d spoken into his mind. He blinked, hesitating. What?
I fought alongside Zachariah for many years, Sophia murmured. But such bonds are…complicated for our people.
Lukys frowned, the pounding of blood in his ears fading slightly at the calmness of Sophia’s words. He hesitated, glancing at his hands, recalling the conversation that had passed between Sophia and the Matriarch. In his fear, he hadn’t really taken in the words, but now he found himself wondering…
“The Matriarch told Adonis to take his best warrior pairs,” he said finally.
Sophia nodded. When we come of age, my people are partnered with another of our generation. We are required to serve five years as warriors, to ensure the safety of our people from…humanity.
“Then…he wasn’t your mate?” Lukys asked.
Mate? Still you think of us as animals, Lukys!
“No!” he gasped, raising his palms in a gesture of peace.
He hesitated when he saw the grin on her lips, and a peal of laughter rang through the cell. His racing heart slowed as he watched the Tangata. What was this creature playing at? Slowly he lowered himself down onto the bench opposite her.
We were many things, Sophia said finally. She leaned forward, her eyes fixing on him once more. But…our time together was coming to an end.
Lukys swallowed. “You…don’t seem…overly bothered by his death.”
To his surprise, Sophia looked away at that. He thought he might have glimpsed a touch of red to her cheeks, but in the flickering lantern light he could not be sure.
Zachariah was…passionate. She glanced at him. He loathed your kind, and joyed in his…role as a warrior. Alas, I never felt that same passion.
“Oh…” Lukys hesitated. “Well, I for one am thankful that you haven’t torn me limb from limb.”
The hint of a smile appeared on Sophia’s lips, surprisingly feminine. It was lucky you sparked Adonis’s curiosity, she replied. He is another who…dislikes your kind’s role in our society.
Her words gave Lukys pause and he found himself looking away, eyes caught in the lantern light. He savoured the orange glow, even as its brightness caused stars to dance across his vision. Despite everything Sophia had told him, there was still one thing he did not understand.
What am I doing here, Sophia? he murmured, reaching out with his mind.
A sigh slipped from the Tangata’s lips but she did not answer. Lukys forced himself to look at her again and was surprised to find her watching him. He swallowed. The sight of those grey eyes still terrified him, caused something primal in him to cry out.
“Am I to be your slave?” he asked at last, unable to keep the despair from his voice.
No. Sophia rose abruptly. She walked to where the iron door still stood open and for a moment he thought she would depart. But she swung back, fists clenched, lips pursed tight together. She shook her head. This isn’t how it is meant to go.
“And how is it meant to go?” Lukys snapped, anger rising in the face of Sophia’s disappointment. He found himself on his feet. “Was I meant to just bow down to you, submit to my new overlord? Is that what humanity is to become, if you conquer our world? Your playthings?”
We do not want your world, Sophia replied.
You took this one! Lukys hurled the words at her. This city belonged to my friend’s people once. You stole it from the Calafe, slaughtered their families, drove them from their lands. Now you make slaves of those who were left behind.
They are not slaves! Sophia snarled into his mind.
She stepped towards him, teeth bared, her whole body trembling. Lukys was suddenly reminded of what he faced. For a moment he’d managed to convince himself he spoke to another human, to forget what she was. Now that realisation came rushing back and he retreated from her fury.
Sophia’s eyes widened at his movement and the anger drained from her face. Silently she took a step back from him, and he thought he saw something in her eyes…terror, revulsion? Then she shook her head.
They are not slaves, Lukys, she repeated. All chose their fate, chose to live amongst us.
Lukys clenched his fists. “Then I am free to leave?”
Air hissed between Sophia’s teeth and she looked away. You cannot, she replied finally. You have seen too much.
“Then I am your prisoner,” Lukys stated.
A sigh slipped from the Tangata’s lips. I cannot force you to accept our assignment, Lukys. Her voice came as a murmur, as though she barely dared to speak. But neither can I release you, not until you swear yourself to me. The Matriarch would not stand for it.
So you’re to be my jailor? he spat back.
Sophia’s eyes narrowed. If that is how you wish to view it. She turned and strode to the door. I will return tomorrow, and every day after. She pushed open the iron door and picked up the lantern from the bench.
Panic touched Lukys at the sight of the light being taken. “Wait!” he gasped.
Grey eyes turned on him. What?
Lukys hesitated, unsure of what to say. The thought of lingering in the darkness for another day, for all his remaining days, made his entire body shake. Yet he could not surrender his freedom so easily. He thought again of Travis and Dale and the other recruits.
What of my friends? he asked finally. What has become of them?
Wrath of the Forgotten: Descendants of the Fall Book II Page 10
