by Aaron Hodges
Muffled voices carried from adjoining rooms as Romaine strode the length of the hall, the various secretaries and quartermasters of the army already at work. Curtis had not come to be general of the allied armies only for his prowess on the battlefield; it was his administration that kept the mammoth machine of the Flumeeren army running smoothly.
Romaine found the man himself sitting behind his desk, head craned over a stack of papers. Later in the day the general would be amongst the men, overseeing the installation of new defences and checking weapons and armour, or watching battle manoeuvres in the central square. Many questioned why a man so far above the rank and file would bother himself with such trivialities, but those did not understand the nature of soldiers. By working alongside the common soldiers, Curtis had gained a respect few generals could imagine. They would obey his orders without question, trusting he would not send them into danger needlessly.
Unless you were Perfugian, of course.
Anger flared in Romaine’s stomach. Despite his respect for the man, there was no denying Curtis had sent Romaine’s friends to their deaths. But he kept his anger on a short leash. There was nothing he could do for Lukys and the others now. They slept the endless sleep. But he could still help Cara.
“There has still been no news of the Goddess, Calafe,” Curtis said, not looking up from his papers.
The man’s dismissive attitude earned another flare of anger from Romaine. He strode to the desk and placed his palm on the papers. His fingers left a streak of dirt on the white.
“Do you not care?” he hissed.
The general looked up with a sigh. “She is a Goddess, Romaine,” he said. “If she did not wish to go with the Archivist—”
“She would not have left willingly,” Romaine snapped, “not without telling me. You did not see her, after we lost Lukys…”
How could he explain to this man that last look she had given him on the ship? The shared sorrow they had felt, at failing to save their friends. Goddess or no, Cara had been distinctly human in that moment, vulnerable, overwhelmed.
“Calm, Romaine,” the general murmured, leaning back in his seat. “You were delirious on the river. We cannot pretend to know the mind of a God, the reasons why she came to us, nor why she left.”
“She left because the blasted Archivist took her!”
Romaine hammered his fist onto the table to emphasis his point, but the effort only served to steal the breath from him, and instead he was left bent in two, gasping while the general watched on.
“Think rationally,” the general said finally, entwining his hands. “We have had scouts out all week. If they had left the city by land or river, we would know of it. Only the Goddess herself could have stolen them away in such secrecy.”
Romaine scrunched his eyes closed. The general’s calm words made a certain sense, but Romaine knew the truth was different. It was just too convenient that the Archivist would disappear rather than face the consequences of her failure in the south. And Erika had disappeared with the one figure who could answer her questions about the past, about the Gods and their magic. No, something had happened between Cara and Erika. He just needed to—
“The man is right, Curtis,” a voice from the corridor interrupted his thoughts. He swung around as a woman entered the office. “It pains me to admit it, but my Archivist has betrayed us. Yesterday, they passed beneath the walls of the Illmoor Fortress.”
Romaine stood gaping as the woman crossed the room. Head held high and arms clasped behind her back, she walked with a cool confidence. She spoke with a Flumeeren accent, and in a kingdom whose women generally did not march to war, she wore chainmail armour stained scarlet. A sword hung from her belt and she carried a full-faced helm under one arm. Golden wires had been fused to the crown of the helmet, marking her as—
“Your Majesty!” the general exclaimed, stumbling to his feet. “What…how…I did not receive word of your coming?”
A smile appeared on Queen Amina’s lips as she paused beside the general’s desk. “You thought I would remain in Mildeth when the Gods walk the land again?” she asked, one eyebrow arching towards locks of almond hair.
“I…” Curtis trailed off, seemingly lost for words.
Amina tisked. “Though, imagine my disappointment when I learned you had lost one of the Divine.”
Curtis swallowed visibly, but he quickly pulled himself together. “We believed she had left of her own accord, travelling with your Archivist, Your Majesty.”
“I did not take you for a fool, Curtis.” The queen’s words were like acid. “Were your orders not to take the woman into custody the second she returned?”
“I…yes, Your Majesty, but…she said…” He withered beneath the monarch’s glare.
“She said what?” the queen asked. “That you should ignore your queen’s orders? You disappoint me, General.” The queen paced to the rear of the office, where several medals hung on display. “After so many years of service, I had thought you knew me better. I ordered you to seize the Archivist for one simple reason: she has betrayed us to a foreign king.”
Romaine’s heart lurched at Amina’s words and for a moment he thought she spoke of his own king, the man Erika had claimed as her father. But no, if she had passed into the Illmoor Fortress, Erika was heading east. The queen was speaking of Nguyen, king of the Gemaho.
“I suspected something was amiss when she claimed to have survived an attack by one of Nguyen’s spies,” the queen went on, once more facing Curtis. “That man is many things, but careless is not one of them. It seemed unlikely one of his agents could fail to best a simple Archivist. But I deemed it an acceptable risk, sending her south to retrieve artefacts of the Gods, knowing you would be here to detain her when she returned.” There was a stringent pause as the queen eyed Curtis. “It seems in that regard, I was wrong.”
The general bowed his head. “I have failed you, my queen.”
“Yes.” The queen’s eyes shifted, focusing on Romaine. “It would seem this Calafe has more sense than my own general.”
Romaine inclined his head as a show of respect, though he did not bow. She was not his queen.
Amusement danced in the woman’s eyes at the gesture.
“Regardless, it seems the time has finally come to confront our eastern neighbours.”
Hope flared in Romaine’s stomach at the queen’s words, while behind the desk, the general started.
“What?” he blurted out, then seeming to remember his manners, added: “Your Majesty, the frontier cannot afford the troops for a second campaign…”
“Of course not, General,” the queen replied, “though I trust you will continue defending our lands against the scourge of the Tangata while I am otherwise occupied.”
The general hesitated. “Your Majesty?”
The queen gave a throaty chuckle. “Thankfully, the Gods have blessed me with great foresight,” she replied. Turning, she gestured in the direction of the town. “I did not leave Mildeth alone. The Queen’s Guard marched with me, five thousand of our finest soldiers. By their might, I will finally claim retribution against the Gemaho for turning their back on our alliance.”
A long silence followed the queen’s proclamation. Romaine could see the indecision in the eyes of the general, the doubt. It was clear Curtis did not think it prudent to start a war against Gemaho while the Tangata still threatened the frontier. Despite Cara’s abduction, Romaine was inclined to agree. Yet if this was the only way of getting her back…
“Your Majesty,” Curtis said, clearing his throat, “I must advise against—”
“Your concern is noted, General,” Queen Amina replied, her voice cold, “but you would do well to trust more in your queen. Just as I trust that you will defend these shores to the last man.”
The general hesitated for another long moment, but finally he nodded. “I will, Your Majesty. You have my oath.”
“Very good, General,” the queen said. She turned her eyes on Romaine. “A
nd what of you, Calafe?” she murmured. “What path will you take?”
“Your Majesty?” he asked, eyebrows drawing into a frown. He clenched his one good hand, though it only served to remind him of the missing one. Surely she couldn’t be asking…
“The Gemaho have assaulted the personage of our Gods,” Queen Amina mused. “It is my understanding you are familiar with her Divinity. I would have your aid on this journey, Calafe, if you wish it.”
Romaine swallowed. “I would march through the fires of hell itself for Cara, Your Majesty.”
The queen nodded. “As would I, Calafe,” she replied. Then she smiled, and Romaine saw in her emerald eyes an anger, a rage that could only come from betrayal. “Besides,” she added, “the good Archivist has something of mine I would like back.”
6
The Soldier
New Nihelm.
Standing on a hilltop, Lukys looked across the valley to where two great rivers came together on their long journey from mountains to ocean. At the point where they converged, an island had formed amidst the swirling waters. It was there the Calafe had built their only city.
Lukys had never seen anything like it. New Nihelm’s rustic beauty equalled even that of Ashura, the ancient capital of his own kingdom. Yet unlike its rival capitals, this city had no walls, no spiralling guard towers or fortifications. New Nihelm had only been founded a hundred years before, long after the warring tribes of humanity had settled into kingdoms. Its creation had been constrained only by its architect’s imagination.
Instead of walls, walkways led around much of the island’s circumference, set atop the breakwaters that protected the inner reaches of the city from the river’s wrath. Beyond, great domes of platinum and silver dotted the city, rising above the slate rooftops of the common buildings. And higher even than the domes, spires sliced the skyline, their gold and marble materials shining in the morning sun, forming a jagged pattern that seemed to mirror the mountains rising to the east.
The daylight slowly illuminated the shadowy streets, revealing a broad, tree-lined avenue that ran from one side of the city to the other, connecting with the northern and southern bridges that were the island’s only physical connection to the mainland.
Lukys could only shake his head. He had not expected to find such a wonder amidst the vast wilderness of Calafe. They had been a nomadic people even before the Tangata came, only settling in stone cottages during the worst of the winter months. All except the inhabitants of New Nihelm, it seemed.
Movement on the hillside drew Lukys’s attention back to the present. Dale came alongside him and they shared a glance. A week had passed as they marched south, always in darkness, so long that Lukys had begun to feel he were a creature of the night himself. At least the journey had allowed time for their bruises to heal, and some life to return to his friend’s face.
“You think this is where they’ve been leading us?” the larger man asked, his hazel eyes drifting to the city.
Lukys shrugged, rolling his aching shoulders. The Tangata had granted them more freedom since that first night, only binding them when it came time to sleep. That did not mean they went unguarded. A flicker in the corner of his eye revealed Sophia hovering nearby. He shuddered, haunted by her words from a week before.
He had killed her mate. He should have realised it earlier—the creatures usually came in pairs. Now it was only a matter of time before she took her revenge.
Swallowing, he forced his thoughts back to Dale and the city below.
“Romaine said the city was destroyed,” he said as they started down the hillside, shepherded along by their Tangatan captors. “Why would they have spared it?”
Neither had an answer, and silence resumed between them. Lukys could feel the exhaustion dragging at him, a creeping fatigue that called for him to sleep, but he fought it off. He had no desire to draw their captors’ wrath—at least, not any more than he already had.
He hadn’t told Dale of his conversation with the Tangatan leader. That would have required revealing the truth about his newfound ability. Guilt still hung about Lukys’s shoulders at the role he had inadvertently played in bringing the Tangata down upon them.
About the role he had played in their comrades’ deaths.
Adonis had not called him again to speak, and for that Lukys was grateful. Though the Tangatan leader held a certain…civility about himself, he had proven no less vicious than the others Lukys had encountered in battle. It was as though a beast lurked in every one of the species, chained in some, set loose in others, but always there, waiting for its opportunity to strike.
It was only a short journey from the hills to the floodplains of the Selman basin, though the bridge to New Nihelm was another mile downstream. They had left the denser northern forests behind a day ago and the land before them now was of verdant grass, the open fields dotted with wandering herds of sheep and goats.
Several of the creatures grazing near the riverbanks raised curious heads at the group’s approach, but soon returned to their meal. They wore thick coats of wool, untouched for a season by the shearers of men, and Lukys felt a touch of pity for them come the summer. If left unshorn for much longer, their coats would become so heavy as to make them slow runners, easy prey for predators.
Or did the Tangata already know this? He glanced at Sophia and her companions, recalling then that most of the species wore clothing spun from wool. How had humanity come to be so ignorant of their enemy, that they had not even questioned where the creatures found their clothing?
The Tangata leading their group reached the riverbanks and turned towards the west, where the bridge beckoned. Looking into the waters swirling below, Lukys was shocked to see they were crystal clear. After spending so long around the Illmoor, he had come to assume all mainland rivers must be murky and polluted. But then, the Illmoor ran for hundreds of miles through Gemaho before reaching Flumeer. Turning his gaze to the mountains rising to the east, Lukys could see no break in their endless peaks; the waterways of Calafe must run directly off those snow-capped summits.
Looking ahead, Lukys was surprised to see a slow trickle of people moving across the bridge. The sight brought a frown to his face, but it wasn’t until they got closer that he began to recognise the smooth, balanced movements of the Tangata. He shared another glance with Dale, but neither said a word. So it was true: the Tangata had taken up residence in the husk of Calafe society. New Nihelm was their destination.
What are they doing here? he wondered, watching as the creatures left the bridge and started into the surrounding pastures.
You think us such savages, human. Lukys started as a voice whispered into his mind. Jerking around, he found their ever-present guard watching him from nearby. Sophia. Why should we not desire a place of safety for our people to shelter?
Lukys swallowed, unnerved that Sophia had heard his thoughts. He quickly turned his eyes ahead again before Dale noticed. What else could she hear—and how could he prevent the creatures from listening? He knew it was possible; otherwise he would hear more than just muffled rumblings from the other Tangata. Unfortunately, he doubted any of the creatures would be willing to instruct him.
I’m sorry. He tried to broadcast the words to where Sophia walked. I am…ignorant of your kind.
A rumble that might have been laughter—or a growl—whispered in his mind, but Sophia did not reply. He swallowed, her words from that first morning returning to him again. Just now though, she did not seem angry or vengeful, and Lukys decided to press his luck.
But…why here? he tried again, pushing the words from him in the direction of the Tangata.
To his surprise, Sophia leapt as though someone had just grabbed her by the shoulder. Landing in a close approximation of the fighting stance Romaine had taught him just a few months past, she swung around, eyes wide, teeth bared.
Lukys froze midstride, while Dale leapt backwards away from their guard and raised his fists.
“What the—” He bi
t back the words as the other creatures turned towards them.
Thankfully, Sophia had been walking a few paces ahead; otherwise Lukys feared she might have struck him. With the strength each of the Tangata possessed, such a blow could easily have proven fatal.
There was a moment’s tension before Sophia lowered her hands. Dale quickly did the same, his eyes on the surrounding creatures. Slowly the others relaxed, and finally one of the other Tangata gave a grunt, indicating they were to move on.
Letting out a long breath, Lukys obeyed, though as he fell into step alongside Dale, he flicked a glance at Sophia. She was still watching him, and for a moment their eyes met.
You do not need to shout, her words whispered gently in his mind.
Despite the danger of his situation, Lukys felt his cheeks grow warm. He quickly dropped his eyes to the river, focusing on the rocks that shimmered beneath the surface rather than his mortification. Shout? He barely knew how to speak this way!
It is strange for us too, hearing a human Speak, Sophia’s words chased after him. There was a pause before she continued. There is a beauty in this place, even for our people. The Matriarch saw no reason not to make use of it.
Her words inspired a dozen more questions in Lukys’s mind, but before he could formulate a sentence, Dale shifted closer to him.
“What was that about, you think?” the other recruit hissed, looking in Sophia’s direction.
Lukys shook his head, struggling to shift back to a verbal conversation. “Something startled her,” he offered finally. “We’re lucky she didn’t tear our throats out.”
