Wrath of the Forgotten: Descendants of the Fall Book II

by Hodges, Aaron

  They moved quickly, fanning out across the plateau, scanning the stone for some clue of an entrance into hidden tunnels. It didn’t take them long.

  Here.

  Adonis joined the pair that had called the discovery. Dirt and moss had built up through the years, but the harsh winds blowing across the island had kept them from completely covering the unnatural rock. At first glance the spot where the two stood looked no different from the rest of the plateau, but a closer inspection revealed there was a slight mound here, circular in shape.

  Crouching, Adonis scraped aside the moss for a better look at the rock beneath. It was rougher than the rest of the plateau, and the rain and wind had carved rivulets across the surface. He looked at the Tangata who held the hammers.

  Break it.

  They set to the task, the harsh crash of steel against stone ringing across the plateau. Adonis left them to their work and wandered back to the clifftops. No evidence remained of what had been here before The Fall and his people had not visited this place before. The Tangata might be capable of defeating the waters, but they did not needlessly hurl themselves into the murky depths either.

  Beyond the shores of the island, the storm was finally breaking. It had come upon them quickly and now seemed intent on departing with the same speed. The winds would linger—they rarely ceased on this part of the coast. It made him wonder why the humans had once built a city here, of all places.

  Standing atop the high cliffs, Adonis looked across the waters to where the ruins of the original Nihelm stood. Jagged spires of iron lay rusting on the distant shores and blackened stones formed great mounds. He suspected the fallen city’s existence had been lost from the records of humanity—certainly those humans assigned in New Nihelm never spoke of it. Even the Tangata knew little of that broken place. The time of their awakening was recalled only in the mind of the Matriarch now, passed down from her forebearers. But one thing was known: the Tangatan homeland had once belonged to humanity.

  Some claimed those early days had been peaceful, that the Tangata and humanity had lived together in harmony. Adonis doubted such claims. The humans feared that which was different from themselves—especially when those others threatened their supposed superiority amongst the species of the earth. Tangata were faster, stronger, better. How could humanity not loathe them?

  Besides, humanity had shown time and again they could not be trusted. Their invasion of the Tangatan homeland ten years ago had slaughtered thousands of innocents. Only the Matriarch’s harsh retaliation had prevented further losses and driven back the enemy forces.

  That victory had seemed to herald the fall of humanity as a danger to his people. Even the Matriarch spoke now of maintaining the peace, of leaving the humans to live beyond the great river.

  But Adonis feared the war had only just begun. Humanity had proven surprisingly resilient. Despite their inferiority, they fought with a frightening ferocity. And after ten years of war, their numbers seemed untouched, as though the more soldiers they lost, the more their pairs produced.

  Meanwhile, the Tangata dwindled, their strength shrinking with each passing year.

  No, the Matriarch was wrong in that regard. There could never be peace with such creatures. Their fear, their anger, their greed had proven such aspirations mere delusions. He had no doubt what the creatures would do if they ever realised the Tangata’s weakness. His people would be hunted down, slaughtered like animals.

  Or worse, put in cages to be tortured, as the human had shown him.

  I will burn their civilisation to the ground before I allow them to destroy us.

  But for that they needed to renew their power, fresh blood to restore the Tangata to their former greatness. The Matriarch was right, the Anahera would not aid them. That left only the Old Ones.

  Adonis, a voice sounded in his mind. The entrance is open.

  Despite his resolution, Adonis felt a thrill of fear. Angrily he brushed it aside. Whether the Old Ones slumbered below or not, he would face them with courage. Humans allowed terror to control them; he was Tangata.

  Smiling, he crossed back to where the others waited. Their strength had made short work of the mound of stone, and a hole now lay open to the howling wind. Darkness beckoned beyond.

  Adonis leapt without hesitation.

  18

  The Fugitive

  Three days passed before Erika and the others finally disembarked from the ship. By then Erika was more than a little fatigued by the endless hours of inactivity, of sitting in the bow and staring into the distance.

  Unlike the ever-varying landscapes of Flumeer and Calafe, Gemaho never seemed to change. Beyond the Mountains of the Gods, endless plains stretched onwards to the horizon, their pastures stained brown by the warm spring sun, and not even the golden crops offered much in the realm of contrast. There were no forests to speak of, hardly any trees at all. While grasslands and rainforests flourished beneath the heavy rains of the west coast, here the very air seemed dry, a strange phenomenon, considering how far they had travelled on the broad waters of the Illmoor.

  Now standing on the banks of the river and looking up at the towering peaks, Erika wasn’t surprised to see they offered little more in the way of variety. Here the farmlands of Gemaho ended, to be replaced with a low, almost grey scrub, the rocky soils lying exposed beneath. A stream trickled down from the valley in which they stood and a few taller bushes grew along its path, though even these barely came to her breast, and their leaves were short and stunted, their branches dotted with thorns.

  Shouldering her pack, Erika glanced at Cara. The Goddess’s mood hadn’t improved much during the three-day journey, probably something to do with the shackles she still wore. At least she had shown no outward signs of resistance, other than her reticence to speak of their final destination. Beyond the Goddess, the last of their soldiers had disembarked from the gangplank, allowing the vessel to pull away. The sailors were to continue upriver to Vanror, where they would collect supplies for the war effort then return to the Illmoor Fortress, hopefully picking them up on the way past.

  If we’re still alive by then.

  “Ready?” Erika asked, forcing a smile as she looked again at Cara.

  The Goddess held up her manacles and glared at her. Letting out a sigh, Erika gestured for the Goddess to go ahead. The chains on her legs were not so tight as to hinder her ability to walk. Several of the king’s soldiers had already started up the valley, scouting the way ahead, while those remaining spread out around Cara and Erika, their eyes alert for trouble. Only one man lingered near the shore, but upon seeing their departure, he brought up the rear behind Erika.

  As they started off, Erika found herself wondering at the men and women the king had sent with them. From her conversations over the past few days, she had come to realize they knew little of Cara’s true identity—only that she was dangerous. They hadn’t asked any question, though from their whispers Erika surmised they thought Cara to be some new kind of Tangata, just as she and Romaine had believed all that time ago.

  More surprisingly, the soldiers didn’t seem concerned about their expedition into the Mountains of the Gods. Erika wasn’t sure what to think of such loyalty—did it speak of a king who earned his followers’ faith, or a man that did not suffer disobedience?

  Shaking her head, she set her mind back to the trail. Reaching the home of the Gods was her most pressing concern. The going was easy for those first few hours, the trail sloping gently upwards. But soon they reached the first of the foothills, hills of scarlet rock rising around them, and the way became steeper. Sparse vegetation marked the slopes and the gentle bubbling of the stream grew louder as the waters picked up pace, racing over ever larger rocks.

  A chill wind blew down the valley, but as the sun approached its zenith, Erika found herself beginning to sweat. For a time, undoing the buttons of her jacket relieved the heat, but the next time they stopped to rest, the cold quickly found its way back. The warmth drained from her
body at a frightening speed and while Erika refastened the buttons, even when they started off again, she never regained the lost heat.

  Cara herself seemed little bothered by the trek, despite the hinderance of her shackles. Where Erika slipped and stumbled on the loose rocks scattered across the slopes, the Goddess nimbly picked her way up the path. Again Erika found herself wondering at the Goddess, why she came along with them. Even if her people were forbidden to kill, surely Cara was powerful enough that she could have escaped by now. Could it be she wanted to be here?

  Night found them camped on the shores of a small mountain lake, its waters no more than a few hundred yards wide. The stream had led them there, up between the ever-narrowing slopes of the winding valley, and now stark cliffs hemmed them in on either side. They had been forced to clamber over boulders for the last hour, the remains of a landslide that in ages past had filled the valley.

  Though spring was already underway, the days were still short and darkness came quickly to the mountains in Gemaho, the sun stolen away by the walls of stone rising around them. With the dark, the cold came in earnest, and Erika huddled close to their fire, glad for the ring of boulders surrounding them that provided shelter from the wind. There hadn’t been enough room for the entire party, and half the soldiers had set a second camp close by. The whisper of laughter came from the other camp.

  Listening to that distant mirth, feeling the warmth of the flames on her face, Erika thought again how different this journey was from her last. In Calafe they had been moving through enemy territory, never knowing when the Tangata might stumble upon them, whether their lives would be measured in days or even hours. Now though, despite the significance of this expedition, despite what might await them, Erika could almost convince herself to relax.

  Almost—but not quite. Her gaze was drawn to where Cara crouched nearby and her heart twanged. Seeing the sadness in the Goddess’s eyes, she quickly looked away. The fire was beginning to burn low. She rose, then crossed to the pile of wood the soldiers had gathered from beneath the scraggly trees that grew alongside the lake. Adding a stick to the flames, she watched as tongues of fire licked their way up the offering.

  The soldiers nearby paid her no attention and Maisie had vanished a little while ago, probably to scout their surroundings or check on the other camp. Letting out a long breath, Erika moved to where Cara sat and lowered herself down.

  “How was your food?” she asked quietly. The soldiers had cooked a stew using dried meat and grains they’d taken from their packs. It didn’t compare to the meals she’d been provided in the fortress, but then, she wasn’t sure what the Goddess had been fed in her cell.

  To her surprise, an audible rumble came from Cara’s stomach, though the Goddess only shrugged. Back to one of the boulders and her knees drawn up to her chest, she kept her gaze on the flames.

  Erika frowned, studying Cara’s face. She’d eaten as much as any of them, but perhaps that wasn’t enough for one of the Anahera. Rising, she found the pot the soldiers had set aside. There was still enough for another serving inside. Taking the handle and a spare spoon, she returned to Cara’s side and held out the pot.

  Cara eyed Erika for a moment before taking her offering. She settled herself back down as the Goddess ate, though after leaning against the stone for a few minutes, Erika began to feel the cold seeping through her heavy furs. Apparently Cara’s wings gave her a little more insulation—or perhaps she was simply unaffected by the cold. These mountains were her home, after all.

  Pulling herself off the boulder, Erika hugged her knees to stay upright and looked again at the Goddess. The stew was disappearing rapidly, giving her the distinct impression she’d been right about Cara’s metabolism.

  After a moment, the Goddess flashed her a glance. “You know, for a species who claims it’s rude to stare, humans sure do it a lot.”

  Erika’s cheek warned at the remonstration. “Sorry,” she said, “we’re not exactly used to having one of our own Gods amongst us.”

  Cara’s amber eyes were aglow in the firelight. “Sorry?” She grimaced. “Another word that has no meaning for your kind.” Her brow furrowed. “They really mean nothing to you, do they? Your words. You say whatever you like and it doesn’t matter to you, the falsehoods. There is no honour, no fairness amongst your kind.”

  “I…” Erika hesitated, caught off-guard by the directness of the Goddess’s attack.

  A dozen excuses rose in her mind, that she hadn’t lied, that she regretted the things she’d done, but…there Cara sat, dragged halfway across the world against her will, hands and ankles still bound in chains. Erika could apologise all she liked, but Cara was right: what did it matter if she continued doing the very thing she was apologising for?

  “You’re right,” Erika whispered finally, choking on the words. Her vision blurred as tears formed in her eyes. “It wasn’t fair of me to treat you like this.” She blinked then, forcing herself to harden. “But our world, it isn’t fair, Cara. I don’t expect a God to understand, but humanity is only what our environment has forced us to be. When I was young, my future was stolen from me. I have spent every day since fighting to win it back. For years I worked to earn a place in the queen’s court, but in a matter of days that too was stolen away. I’m not sorry for doing what I needed to save my life.”

  The last words left her mouth in a rush, giving way to silence. Cara still watched her, though to Erika’s eyes it seemed her expression had softened somewhat, as if the outburst had helped her finally understand something. Letting out a long breath, Erika swallowed the last of her emotion.

  “As I said,” she added finally, “I wouldn’t expect you to understand. You’re a God.”

  Cara shrugged. “So you say,” she started, looking uncertain. “But you’re wrong. I do understand. At least a little.” She raised her eyes to the sky, and in that moment, she looked more like a young woman than she’d ever looked a Goddess. “You say you lost everything, but at least you once had freedom. That’s something I’ve never tasted before. At least, not until Romaine found me in that forest.” A tear streaked her cheek. “I’m not even sure…not sure how my people will receive my return. It is a terrible crime for us to leave the mountains, let alone reveal ourselves to humanity. But after so many decades—”

  “Decades?” Erika interrupted, eyes widening.

  The hint of a smile tugged at Cara’s cheeks. “How old do you think I am, Archivist?”

  Erika opened her mouth, then closed it again, unwilling to take a guess, though she would have said a human of Cara’s looks couldn’t be older than twenty.

  Cara chuckled. “I would be close to fifty in your years, though amongst the Anahera I am still but a child.”

  Erika shivered. She shouldn’t have been surprised that Cara was older than she looked. She was a Goddess after all, with the strength to hurl a man across a room as though he weighed no more than a few pounds. And wings. Yet it was still disconcerting, to look on the face of a teenager and know the soul within had seen fifty years of life.

  “My night flights, they were my little show of rebellion.” Cara’s eyes danced as she spoke. “Is it still called the rebellious teen years? It seemed so harmless, flying from the mountains in the night. That is, until that storm. God, I was so stupid.”

  “We all make mistakes, Cara,” Erika said, feeling more than a little strange to be comforting a being twice her age. How did new Gods even come into existence? Yet another question she would like to ask, though perhaps another time would be more appropriate.

  Cara sighed but said nothing, and Erika settled back against the boulder. There had been few clouds during the day and now the night sky was an open tapestry of light, an orchestra of stars stretching overhead into infinity.

  “I won’t run.” Erika’s head jerked up as Cara spoke again and she found the Goddess watching her. She frowned, not understanding, and the Goddess elaborated: “If you freed me, I wouldn’t fly away.”

  “Y
ou know I can’t trust you,” Erika whispered.

  “I know,” Cara said, nodding sadly. “You’re too accustomed to falsehoods. But my people, the Anahera, we do not lie. I don’t expect a human to understand that.” She smiled wryly. “But it’s the truth.”

  Erika swallowed, and in her mind, she saw again a vision of Cara in flight, swooping down to pluck her from the clutches of the Tangata. How poorly she had repaid that deed. Her words now about the unfairness of the world seemed hollow, and to her surprise she found herself rising. Light lit her gauntlet as she reached for the shackles that bound the Goddess, but at the last moment she hesitated, a thought occurring to her.

  “But you lied to Romaine, when you said you were Calafe.”

  Red tinged Cara’s cheeks. “I…never actually said I was Calafe,” she mumbled. “I just…never corrected anyone when they assumed…”

  Laughter burst from Erika at the Goddess’s words and she shook her head. “Now who is accustomed to falsehoods?”

  Even so, she reached again for the shackles. She’d never used the gauntlet in such a way, but it felt right, to use it for at least one good deed. Not quite knowing what she was doing, she took the shackles between her fingers and squeezed. Magic lit the metallic fibres and she focused on directing it into the steel chains.

  There was a flash as the gauntlet brightened, followed a sharp crack. Steel rang against rock as the locking mechanisms failed in both shackles and they fell from Cara’s wrists. Erika blinked, surprised it had worked so well, then glanced at the Goddess. When Cara made no move to attack, she turned her attention to the ankle chains.

  Those too fell away and Erika backed away, waiting to see how Cara would react. The Goddess rose slowly, pulling the jacket from her shoulders. Freed of their confines, her wings spread wide with a sharp crack of feathers. Gasps came from the soldiers on the other side of the fire, but Erika kept her eyes on the Goddess, wondering if she had been wrong.