Warbringer

by Aaron Hodges

  Stones crunched and the ship shook beneath her. Erika’s head jerked up as she realised they’d already reached Fogmore. The voyage had passed unnoticed while she’d dreamed. Her doom was already at hand.

  No. She forced her mind into action. The general cannot touch you; it’s the queen you must fear. There is still time yet.

  Exhaling, she rose unsteadily to her feet and turned to where the gangplank was being lowered. She started to find Cara standing directly behind her. The young Goddess’s eyes had returned to their usual amber. They were wide, anxious. The Tangata had torn strips in her tunic and she sported a black eye where a blow had caught her unaware, but otherwise she appeared unharmed from the battle.

  “Are…are you okay, Erika?” Cara whispered.

  As she spoke, her wings lifted a little from her back, giving Erika another glimpse of the auburn feathers. The sight summoned memories of their flight across the river, the water flashing past far below, the screams of the Tangata still ringing in her ears.

  Erika banished the image and focused on Cara’s words. “I’m okay,” she replied, bowing her head in respect. “Thank you for rescuing me, Oh Great One.”

  Red crept into Cara’s cheeks at the words and she quickly looked away. “Please don’t call me that,” she croaked. “I’m…not what you think.”

  Erika hesitated, before offering another nod. Whatever the girl asked, it would be difficult to think of her as anything but Divine now. Though…it was clear Cara also was not immortal. Her arm had been broken the first time they’d met. She could be hurt—but the Tangata, and by Erika’s gauntlet. Why was that?

  Questions for another time. For now, she pushed aside her confusion, bit back the pain of her broken arm, and forced herself to smile. A plan was coming to her, though she would not survive for long without the Goddess on her side.

  “Very well,” she said, trying to keep her voice even. “Well, would you accompany me to shore? I am still somewhat…weak from the magic.”

  Cara licked her lips, eyes flickering to the distant shores of the Illmoor. Though darkness had fallen, Erika had the distinct feeling the Goddess could see the other side perfectly.

  “Poor Lukys,” Cara whispered.

  “You did everything you could,” Erika murmured, placing a hand on the young woman’s shoulders.

  Cara did not react—confirming at least one of Erika’s suspicions. The Goddess had never been afraid of touch—only of someone feeling the wings beneath her heavy cloak.

  Gently, Erika led Cara towards the gangplank. It felt strange, offering comfort to this creature, to a literal God. But…there was something distinctly human about Cara’s pain, about her grief. And perhaps it created an opportunity.

  Most of the soldiers had already disembarked. Word would have already reached the city of the God they had brought back from the south. Fogmore would be abuzz with rumour. Dozens had already appeared on the shores, ignoring the obvious danger of the Tangata that they had left behind on the other shore. Whispers rose from the crowd as Erika stepped onto the plank, but it was not the Archivist they had come to see.

  Gasps spread through the gathering as Cara followed. Her wings lifted at the sound, half-unfurling. An involuntary reflex, Erika guessed, after the way the Goddess had tried to go unnoticed for so long. The crowd drew back as they reached the shore. And who could blame them? The Gods were remembered not just with deference, but fear. After all, they were responsible for The Fall.

  “My lord…Goddess…Saviour!”

  The whispers grew louder as they stood there, and Cara pressed close to the Archivist. She shuddered as a feather brushed her arm, and had to suppress a scream. There was something unnatural about those wings. They reminded her far too much of the Tangata.

  That…will take some getting used to.

  “Soldiers, at your stations!” The hairs on the back of Erika’s neck stood on end as a voice bellowed from the top of the slope. General Curtis came marching through the ranks of men and women, his face a carefully controlled mask. “Get these civilians back into the city—there are Tangata about this night.”

  He came to a stop before Erika and the Goddess while around them the soldiers leapt to obey. Erika drew herself up as he stood regarding her, resisting the urge to shrink before the rage that glinted in his eyes.

  “General,” she said, offering a polite nod.

  “The Perfugian recruits?” he asked curtly.

  Guilt stoppered Erika’s lips, but finally she managed to blurt out a single word: “Gone.”

  “And the magic of the Gods?”

  “Lost.”

  He gave a curt nod. “As expected.” His eyes flickered to Cara, taking in the auburn wings. His jaw clenched, though to his credit, he showed no other reaction. “Great One,” he murmured, bowing. “The gates of Fogmore lie open to you.”

  Cara’s cheeks brightened and she lowered her eyes. Seeing her opportunity, Erika spoke into the silence. “The Great One is somewhat…unaccustomed to human scrutiny. She will accompany me to my quarters.”

  The general’s eyes flickered in her direction. “My orders were to take you into custody, should your endeavour prove fruitless.” Erika’s heart lurched, but the general drew in a breath and continued: “But…I am certain the queen would not wish to go against Her Divinity.” He faced Cara once more. “I hope that you might break your fast with us come the morning, Great One.”

  Cara flicked an uncertain glance at Erika before offering a nod. Suppressing a smile, Erika linked arms with the Goddess and led her up the slope.

  “What about Romaine?” Cara whispered as they walked.

  “I’m sure his wounds are already being tended to,” Erika reassured her. The Calafe had been one of the first off the ship, carried on a stretcher. “We can visit him in the morning.”

  That seemed to reassure the Goddess, and they continued up the path. The gates opened before them and Erika strode through without looking back. Let the general worry about the Tangata; she had other concerns now. She led the Goddess through the streets, steadfastly ignoring the stares of the crowd as they passed.

  She was pleased to find her quarters still empty. Hastily constructed from timber boards, it wasn’t much better than the abandoned cottages back in Calafe. But at least it was private, and would give her the chance to question the Goddess, to figure out her next move.

  Pulling open the door, she held it for Cara. “Come on in. You’ll be safe from the stares here. At least until morning.”

  Cara hesitated on the threshold, eyes wide, cheeks a bright red, but finally she stepped inside. Erika swung the door closed behind them, plunging the room into darkness. Throwing the latch to keep out unwanted visitors, she hesitated, then decided she had strength enough to summon the magic. The soft light of her gauntlet lit the room.

  “So, you survived.”

  Erika almost leapt out of her boots as a voice spoke from the shadows. Beside her, Cara gave a shrill cry and leapt sideways, wings snapping open. Something went crash in the gloom—the potted plant beside her window. Heart racing, Erika raised her fist, and a brilliant light cast back the darkness.

  The stranger from Gemaho sat at her table, one leg crossed over the other, fingers drumming against the table. A sheathed sword lay beside the woman, as though to say she was not there to fight, though Erika was sure she would have other weapons at her disposal.

  Still struggling to catch her breath, Erika lowered her fist. “I am,” she said softly, then paused, before adding: “No thanks to the queen.”

  A smile tugged at the woman’s lips. “So I heard.” She uncrossed her legs and stood. “So your quest failed?”

  Erika hesitated, heart thudding painfully in her chest. She found herself holding her breath, unsure how to proceed. Glancing to the side, she saw that Cara was watching her, wings spread wide, ready to flee.

  Forcing a smile, Erika raised her hand. “It’s okay, Cara,” she said softly, seeking to reassure the Goddess. “She’
s with me.”

  The girl said nothing, though her wings retracted an inch. Releasing her breath, Erika faced the Gemaho spy once more.

  “Not entirely,” she said in answer to the question. She gestured at Cara. “As you can see, other discoveries were made.”

  “My king knew you were resourceful,” her visitor said with a smile. “And what of our offer?”

  “I accept,” Erika said at once. “I will go with you to Gemaho.”

  “Excellent.” The stranger’s eyes flickered to Cara. “And your…friend?”

  “Gemaho?” Cara whispered, looking to Erika. “But they’re your…enemies, aren’t they?”

  “Not anymore,” Erika said soothingly.

  “But Romaine,” the woman continued, frowning. “We can’t leave him, not after…” Tears formed in her eyes as she trailed off.

  “My king will require a demonstration of your goodwill, Archivist,” the woman said softly.

  Erika sighed. This wasn’t how it was meant to go. But nor could she ignore the general’s words on the shore of the Illmoor. The queen had already condemned her. She might have fooled them for now, with her claim of friendship to the Goddess, but that could not last. One way or another, the queen would find a way of disposing of Erika, and taking the magic for herself.

  She could not go to Gemaho empty handed. That left only one option.

  Sucking in a breath, Erika spun and brought up her gauntlet. Realisation showed in Cara’s eyes and she opened her mouth to cry out, but Erika didn’t give her the chance. The magic struck and the scream died in Cara’s throat. With a flash of light, she fell to the ground, and knew no more.

  35

  The Recruit

  Lukys watched with a mixture of relief and despair as the winged Goddess that was Cara threw the Archivist over one shoulder and took to the sky. His heart soared, glad at least someone had escaped. The joy was short lived as the remaining Tangata turned towards them. Terror rose to take its place.

  The others had escaped.

  But their nightmare had only just begun.

  Rage burned in the eyes of the Tangata. He realised now it had been Cara the creatures had wanted all along. But there was no time to consider what significance the Gods had to the monsters.

  Fight, live, kill.

  Drums sounded in Lukys’s mind as the creatures crowded them. Beside him, Dale still fought to break free of his captor, but Lukys stood frozen, overwhelmed by the horde of grey eyes watching him.

  Suddenly the Tangata released them. Lukys staggered as the hands holding him vanished, swaying on his feet. Before he could look around, a fist struck him in the stomach, driving the breath from his lungs. He doubled over, gasping, even as he heard the thump of Dale striking the ground alongside him. Eyes watering, he tried to straighten, but a second blow slammed into his back.

  He screamed as the ground rose to meet him, the broken bones grinding in his chest. Pain wrapped itself around his body as a boot struck him in the side, hurling him sideways. From somewhere nearby, another voice cried out, but Dale was lost amidst a forest of flashing limbs.

  Fight, kill. Fight, kill!

  Another boot caught Lukys in the side of the head and stars flashed across his vision. He tried to roll away, but the creatures were all around. Falling on his back, he cried out, begging for mercy, but another blow slammed into his stomach, stealing away the last of his breath.

  He collapsed to the ground, vision growing dark. Overhead, a sea of faces spun, mouths twisted in anger, yellowed teeth bared, murder in grey eyes.

  Kill, kill, kill!

  Lukys opened his mouth to cry out, but all he could manage was a whisper. The Tangata retreated slightly, and for second he thought they were showing mercy. Then one amongst them stepped forward. Sunlight flashed and even through his fading vision, Lukys glimpsed the spearpoint in its hands.

  Desperately, he tried to scramble away, but now iron hands grasped him by the arms and legs, pinning him down. A cry came from nearby as others did the same with Dale. Then all Lukys could do was watch as the beast raised the spear overhead.

  Death, death, death…

  NO!

  Lukys wasn’t sure whether he screamed the word or thought it. Only thought it, surely, for he still had not recovered his breath. Yet the creatures around him reared back as though they’d been stung, as if he had suddenly turned into something foreign, something dangerous.

  Grey eyes stared down at him, and though their mouths did not move, suddenly it was as though there were a hundred voices screaming in Lukys’s mind, so many he could not make out a single word—though he sensed their rage, their confusion.

  All at once the voices cut off. Movement came from amongst the crowd as a new creature appeared, a female. It moved to stand over him, eyes narrowed. The silence in Lukys’s head was practically deafening as the female knelt. He flinched as a hand reached out, expecting death to follow, but the Tangata only traced a finger across his face, touching his nose, his cheeks, his lips. He lay there in terror, hardly daring to even breathe as she inspected him.

  Finally she sat back, though her eyes never left him. He realised then how strange her eyes were—still the grey of the Tangata, but somehow deeper, as though this creature carried a great weight on its shoulders. She inspected him for a moment longer. Then a voice spoke in his mind.

  Who are you?

  Here ends Warbringer, book one of Descendants of the Fall.

  Continue the adventure with:

  Wrath of the Forgotten

  Hey folks, just a quick note to say thank you for reading this far! I hope you enjoyed the journey. Either way, it would really mean a lot to me you could stop by Amazon and leave your honest review—even if it’s just a few words. Reviews are such an important part of marketing our books to the world and without them I literally would not be able to continue writing these stories! Thank you in advance and read on! - Aaron

  Note from the Author

  Well that was fun! I forgot how refreshing it could be to step into a new world, even though it is A LOT harder than I remember to create one! Although that’s not to say I haven’t written similar works. My Evolution Gene trilogy also features superhuman creatures, but is set in the dystopian Western Allied States. Or if you’re interested in my fantasy works, there’s no better place to start than my The Sword of Light Trilogy - the first series I ever wrote! And you can get the first books in each of these series absolutely free by signing up to join to my newsletter. You’ll also be the first to hear about my upcoming works, specials, and what I’m up to each week. If you fantasy you can’t go wrong:

  http://www.aaronhodges.co.nz/newsletter-signup/

  You can also follow me on Facebook or Instagram to be the first to hear the news on my latest books. I’m always posting photos from my adventures around the world - which also often end up featuring later in my books!

  THE EVOLUTION GENE TRILOGY

  Did a world exist before The Fall?

  Find out in The Genome Project…

  Runaway teenager Liz wants nothing more than an ordinary life. But when she’s abducted off the streets, Liz learns her government has other plans. In a future ruled by a ruthless dictator, there’s no place for the weak, and she’s spirited away to a facility deep in the Californian mountains. There, Liz wakes in an iron cage – and she’s not alone.

  Beside her, eighteen-year-old Chris stands wrongfully accused of treason. The two are now volunteers in the Genome Project – an experimental program to enhance the human race. Stripped of their rights, they will soon learn the true depths of human cruelty. The two must work together to survive, but even then, their chances are slim.

  Of course, only the lucky get to die.

  Chapter 1

  “Another pint, hun?”

  Liz gritted her teeth as a man’s voice carried to her from across the bar. Sucking in a breath, she forced a smile to her lips and looked around for the speaker. She found him sitting alone at a table in t
he corner, a drunken grin stretching across his unshaven cheeks. He caught her gaze and waved his empty mug.

  Taking care to keep the smile plastered to her face, Liz walked across the diner to take his order.

  “Just the beer, sir?” she asked, taking his mug. “It’s last call.”

  He squinted at her as though struggling to understand her words. He was swaying slightly in his chair, and Liz was quite sure he’d already had enough. Unfortunately, her manager, Andrew, was never one to refuse a paying customer.

  Finally, the man belched and waved the glass at her stomach. “What else is on the menu, love?”

  He said the words with a leer that made Liz want to rip the mug from his hand and smash it over his head. Instead, all she did was smile sweetly. “Just the usual,” she said, trying to keep the anger from her voice. “Kitchen is closed, though.”

  “Not interested in the kitchen.” He leaned forward in his chair, and the stench of garlic and cigarettes wafted over Liz. “But I always wanted a taste of something rural.”

  Liz’s stomach churned, and in a flash of anger she snatched the glass from the man’s grease-stained fingers. Then, steeling herself, she took a breath, and forced a laugh. “Grass Valley Ale it is!”

  Without waiting for a response, she spun on her heel and strode back through the maze of tables. Her neck prickled as she sensed his gaze on her, but she did not glance back. Retreating behind the bar, she added the dirty glass to the growing stack of dishes she had to tackle after closing, and took a fresh one from beneath the bar.

  Liz paused as she turned and caught the man’s beady eyes watching her from the corner. He had to be at least forty—more than twice her own seventeen years. Steadfastly ignoring his gaze, she poured out a pint of Grass Valley Ale.