I heard something, a voice announced, clear now. I swear.
He felt Sophia tense against him, could feel her heart racing in pace with his own. There was no sign of the other recruits—hopefully they were already across, out of sight, free. Lukys closed his eyes and waited. There was nothing else they could do.
There’s nothing out here, another replied. You really think someone got past us?
You really want to face that Old One if they did?
A pause. Should we check the other side?
The whispers in Lukys’s mind grew louder as they neared. Beneath the bridge, they could not be seen, but Lukys’s heart quickened at their words. If they crossed to the southern banks, there would be no missing the Perfugian recruits that had gone ahead.
He frowned as an idea came to him and he looked again at Sophia, turning her earlier words over in his mind. What had she said…that they could encourage emotions in others? Did that include the Tangata? She’d said he was stronger, that his Voice carried more force—could he use that? Had he already?
Silently, Lukys stretched out his mind to the guards, trying to take care not to broadcast his own fear. He was still too new at this, too inexperienced. Surely this was too dangerous…
…but no, he couldn’t allow the guards to reach the far shore. One glimpse of the recruits would doom them all.
He touched their minds, gently, softly, brushing against their thoughts. He sensed their worry, their fear of failure, broadcast for the world to hear. But deeper, he sensed the fiery confidence of the Tangata, the belief in their strength. He mimicked those thoughts himself, trying to augment, to reassure the two creatures there was nothing there.
No, the first said finally. Nothing got passed us. Come on, I don’t want to be caught away from our post.
Lukys released a breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding as the footsteps retreated, moving quickly back towards the city. Sophia’s eyes found him in the darkness, but she said nothing, and after a moment Lukys looked away.
They continued across the river, the cold now so ingrained in Lukys’s bones that he could barely feel his extremities. If they spent much longer in the water, he feared discovery would be the least of their worries. He tried to pick up his pace, moving through the currents by pushing off one pillar with his feet and grasping desperately at the next as it came within reach, using the spear to find them in the darkness. In some places, though, the pillars were missing, and here it took all Lukys’s energy just to keep from being swept away. On two occasions, Sophia had to grasp his spear and drag him back to safety. He prayed to the Gods that Travis and the others had managed to cross safely.
Lukys’s frozen mind barely registered their arrival on the distant shore. He stumbled from the river, water coursing from his clothes. Shadows flickered ahead as first Travis, then Dale stepped from the darkness and embraced him. A tremor shook Lukys, but his friends were just as cold as he was. After a moment they broke apart and Lukys slumped to the sandy shore.
It was the worst thing he could have done. Now that he’d stopped moving, the tremors redoubled until his teeth were chattering so loudly he feared the guards might still hear him all the way from the city. He looked around as Sophia strode from the water. Their eyes met and he opened his mouth to thank her, but could not get the words out.
Get up, she said, the words a command. If you don’t move, you’ll die.
Lukys hesitated at the coldness to her tone, but finally he nodded and dragged himself off the sand. He almost went to her, but fought the urge. They stood beside the bridge, its shadow stretching away into the dark, only to reappear in the distance where lanterns burned at the entrance of the city. He wondered how long it would take the Old One to discover their absence.
Still shaking, he turned his gaze from the river to the shoreline. His fellow Perfugians stood there in various states of wakefulness. It looked like all had survived the crossing, no doubt aided by their Tangatan partners. The creatures themselves stood alongside the recruits, keeping them moving, keeping them warm. A pang of longing touched him, that he could experience that same closeness, but he shook it off. His friends still didn’t know what had been done to them.
That could wait. They needed to be away from this place.
“Where to?” Travis asked as the recruit caught his gaze.
Lukys shook his head, trying to force his frozen mind into action. His gaze lifted to the east. The first hints of morning silhouetted the Mountains of the Gods. He swallowed, images of Cara soaring towards him across the Illmoor appearing in his mind. Somewhere in those peaks, her family lived, their location marked by the map he held in his head. If they could reach that hidden site…
He turned back to his comrades, taking in their sodden state. Half appeared to have lost their spears in the currents, and only the supplies carried by the Tangata had made the crossing. Their clothing was thin, suited to the milder climates of the south, and in the endless wilderness of Calafe there would be no finding anything better. Without proper cloaks and furs, they wouldn’t last a night in those snow-capped peaks.
His heart sinking, he returned his gaze to the river. The currents swept past, making their endless journey down through lowland Calafe, to the coast, to the ocean. They had made it to the southern shore, the least likely place the Tangata would look for them, but they would need to cross again eventually if they wanted to journey north. But what then? Hundreds of miles lay between here and the questionable safety of Flumeer—and all of it territory claimed by the Tangata.
He shook his head. They would never make it.
“Let’s go,” he said, trying to keep the despair from his voice. They needed to move or they wouldn’t even last the day.
We must walk in the water, Sophia’s voice drifted through his thoughts. The older generations might track us by your scent.
Lukys gritted his teeth, but nodded. “Back in the water,” he said to the recruits. “We go downriver.”
Several flashed him strange looks, but they were soon marching west away from the bridge, boots squelching with each step. Thankfully the water was shallow this side of the Shelman, the stones firm beneath their feet. They made good progress, though Lukys could feel the cold eating at his legs. Despite the risk, they would need to light a fire when they finally stopped, or risk frostbite.
They pressed on through the darkness, making it a mile downstream before finally leaving the water. From there they continued west, threading their way through the light shrub that grew along the riverbank.
Despite their progress, Lukys could feel his spirits falling with each step. He still didn’t know where they could go, whether they should cross the river again. All he knew was they had to keep moving. But were they only delaying the inevitable? Even if they reached Flumeer, how long could the nation stand? Against the power of the Old One, of the Tangata, the human armies that defended the banks of the Illmoor seemed pitiful by comparison.
A sense of hopelessness crept into his thoughts and he found his shoulders slumping, his steps slowing in the darkness. What was the point of fighting on when all hope was lost?
He started as light appeared in the darkness, illuminating the ground beneath his feet. Stumbling to a stop, he swung around, almost surprised to see the sun lifting out from behind those towering mountains. Again he felt the urge to seek the distant peaks. Perhaps there he would find answers—about Sophia and the other Tangatan partners, about the Old Ones, about his own strange ability.
But that path was barred to him. Yet the sight still lifted him, reminded him there were still greater forces at play in the world, counters to the power of the Old One. Cara would stand against them, Romaine as well. They had already defeated the creatures once, down in the bowels of the earth. They could do it again.
No, Lukys needed to focus on his own survival, on the survival of his Perfugian companions. Let the queens and Gods and the Tangata wage their war; Lukys only needed to save the few brave souls that had
dared to follow him this far. He would see them safely home.
His eyes lifted to the river and he thought again of its endless journey, down to the distant ocean, and his heart quickened as a thought came to him. He turned, seeking out Sophia. His heart clenched as he found her nearby, ashy hair lit by the rising sun. She had stayed close, his own personal guardian—
He shook off the thought, concentrating on the task at hand.
Sophia, he murmured, keeping their conversation private for now. She looked around, eyes lifting in surprise, and he quickly went on. You know these lands. What lies at the mouth of the river?
The Tangata’s eyebrows knitted together and it was a moment before she responded. Sand, she replied, and…there is a small fishing village, I believe.
Lukys’s heart quickened, and nodding to her, he strode ahead. They would stop soon, to rest and recover, to dry out their soaked clothing, but for now a fresh determination set him alight. He knew where they needed to go now, difficult as the journey might be. There was only one place left in the kingdoms of man that might grant them safe harbour, one place that could withstand whatever fate befell the rest of humanity. One place where he might find answers.
We’re going home.
33
The Fugitive
Erika watched as Romaine slumped to the ground, his eyes fluttering closed. The Goddess clutched desperately at his chest, but the Calafe did not move.
Grief touched Erika as she looked on the dying man, but the loss barely registered beside her anguish, beside her rage at the man Yasin. Nearby, Maisie had drawn her blade and was battling furiously with the Flumeeren cutthroat. Silently Erika crouched, her fingers closing around the gauntlet she’d dropped.
Lifting it to her hand, she made to put it back on, then froze. Blood pounded in her ears as she looked on the source of the magic she had wielded these past months. Fear touched her as she recalled the ecstasy she had felt at its use, the power it had granted her. She longed for that power, and yet…if she put it back on, would she ever have the strength to remove it again?
A thump from nearby diverted her attention back to the warring pair in time to see Maisie’s blade go skittering across the gravels. The spy herself staggered back clutching her arm. Blood soaked her fingers as she tripped over the uneven ground and collapsed against the stones.
It was now or never. Closing her eyes, she moved her hand towards the gauntlet.
Then she flinched as a terrible keening sound erupted through the pass. Her eyes snapped open and she watched as Cara strode past, her eyes fixed on the Flumeeren killer.
Eyes stained grey, eyes the colour of death.
The keening turned to a terrible growl as auburn wings snapped wide. Cara no longer looked on the verge of death. She looked as she had in the tunnels of the Gods, fighting those ancient creatures.
Like a monster herself, the Tangata reborn.
And her gaze was fixed on Yasin.
“What the…” Yasin began, then broke off as Cara continued towards him.
Realising his danger, the cutthroat leapt for his crossbow. Erika’s heart lurched in her chest and she looked at Cara, but the Goddess made no move to stop him. Snatching up the weapon, Yasin hesitated, seeming confused at Cara’s hesitation. But he didn’t hesitate for long, and quickly he wound back the crossbow and dropped a bolt into place. Looking more confident now, he pointed it at Cara.
“Now, where were we?” He smiled again, though this time it seemed forced.
Cara only tilted her head to the side, as though perplexed by the human’s actions. A snarl tore from Yasin and a sharp twang followed as the crossbow discharged. Erika cried out as Cara seemed to shift, but a blink later, and the winged Goddess was still standing. Only now she held a crossbow bolt in one outstretched hand.
What?
The terrible growl rumbled through the pass again. Then the Goddess was stalking towards Yasin, and her grey eyes promised death.
Cursing, Yasin threw aside the crossbow and drew his sword. “Come on then, bitch,” he hissed. “Let’s see if Gods bleed.”
A smile spread across Cara’s lips. Erika shuddered as she looked into the Goddess’s eyes. There was a madness in those grey depths. This was not the woman she had come to know over the last weeks, the Goddess who had spoken of unbreakable promises and peace. Cara had become something else entirely. And all her attention was fixed on Yasin.
Screaming, Yasin leapt at Cara, sword flashing for her throat. The attack came suddenly, without warning, and despite herself Erika flinched. Cara only watched him come, that same sickly smile on her lips, until at the last moment she twisted, becoming a blur, and the sword cut empty air.
Carried forward by his momentum, Yasin found himself standing alongside the Goddess, sword pointing in the wrong direction. Snarling, he swung again, and this time Cara was forced to move, ducking beneath a wild sweep of his blade. She straightened almost instantly as Yasin stumbled past, her cold grey eyes still watching him, mocking him.
Yasin roared as he spun and stabbed out again. This time, Cara’s hand flashed down, catching the Flumeeren by the wrist. Cursing, he tried to pull himself free, but Cara didn’t seem to notice his efforts. She looked into his eyes, then her grip tightened. And the rogue started to scream.
Erika’s hair stood on end as the sharp crack of breaking bones carried to her ears. Steel clashed against rock as the sword tumbled from the man’s fingers. Then suddenly he was free, released from the Goddess’s grip. He stumbled away, hand held up before him, and Erika choked, her stomach roiling.
His wrist was bent where Cara had held him, a shard of bone jabbing from the flesh. A moan rattled from Yasin as he stared at the mangled limb, but adrenaline must have swamped the pain, for as Cara moved again he screamed, and dropping his left hand to his belt, he drew a dagger. Face twisted in agony, he drew back his hand to hurl the blade.
Cara moved faster still, her wings beating down, sending her hurtling forward. Before Yasin knew what was happening she was upon him, his left arm now in her grasp. The cold smile spread as he cried out, a plea on his lips…
…it turned to a shriek as she wrenched. Another crunch echoed through the canyon.
Yasin staggered back from Cara, dagger on the ground, mangled arms held before him. His screams were constant now. Erika could hardly bare to watch, though this was the man who had killed her father, who had cast her entire life into the void. The murderer’s face was pale and tears ran from his eyes as he retreated from Cara, shaking his head, pleading.
The Goddess stalked after him, and with a mortal cry, Yasin turned to flee.
Like a cat with a mouse, Cara pounced. She moved with a languid confidence now, of a predator that knew its prey could not escape. Her boot flashed out, catching the Flumeeren in the side of his knee. Another crack punctuated the blow.
Yasin slammed into the rocks, his cries breaking off as the impact drove the breath from his lungs. Cara stood over him, wings spread, icy eyes watching him. She was still smiling. A desperate moan came from the man as he finally caught his breath. It turned to sobs as he looked up and saw the Goddess.
“Please, Gods, no—”
She broke his other leg.
Unable to bear it any longer, Erika looked away. A shudder ran down her spine as her gaze fell on the gauntlet. It was still in her hand, but the thought of putting it on now turned her insides to liquid. If this was what the magic of the Gods could do to the peaceful, good-humoured woman she had known, what would it do to her?
A sudden silence fell across the canyon as Yasin’s final scream was cut off. Erika flinched, and looking up, she noticed Maisie. There was fear in the eyes of the spy. Steeling herself, Erika looked for her friend…and stifled a scream as she found Cara standing just a few feet away.
Blood covered the Goddess’s tunic, still dripped from her hands. The scream again built in Erika’s throat as she looked into Cara’s grey eyes and saw the madness there, the thirst for blood. A sna
rl rumbled from the Goddess’s chest as she bared her teeth and stepped towards her.
“Cara…”
The voice was so soft, Erika barely caught it on the wind, but the Goddess heard. Her head whipped around as though she’d been struck, grey eyes fixing on the crumpled figure in the mouth of the pass. Romaine had not moved from where he’d fallen, and Erika swallowed at the sight of blood staining the rock beneath him.
Glancing at the Goddess, Erika watched as Cara blinked. Once, twice, three times. Then the grey was gone, the amber returned. Tears spilt down her cheeks as she cried out. In a second she was at the Calafe’s side, crouching beside him, reaching for the bolt that still protruded from his chest.
“Don’t,” Romaine breathed.
“Romaine,” Cara whispered, hand still outstretched, voice filled with pain.
Erika moved closer, her own vision blurring at the sight of the fallen Calafe warrior.
“Is it…done?” the man croaked, trying to lift his head.
A moan built in Cara’s throat as she looked at where the mangled remains of Yasin lay. Erika could see her horror—and something else. Terror at what she’d done? Quickly Erika moved alongside them, crouching on Romaine’s other side.
“He’s gone, Romaine,” she murmured. “We’re safe.”
“Good,” Romaine whispered. “Good.”
“Romaine, no…” Cara sobbed, grasping at his shirt, Yasin’s blood mingling with the Calafe’s. “No, please don’t, you saved me, you can’t...”
“Ah, little one,” Romaine replied. He reached up with a trembling hand, touching it to her face. “Don’t cry. I couldn’t…let him hurt you. Couldn’t fail…anyone else. Ahh…but that hurts…”
“My people, they’ll help you,” Cara gasped. “We’re so close, just don’t go, please, promise me.”
A smile touched Romaine’s face, but his eyes no longer seemed to see them. “No, little one,” he whispered. “No, not…this time. They’re…waiting for me.”
Wrath of the Forgotten: Descendants of the Fall Book II Page 25
