by Aaron Hodges
Romaine found himself unable to hold the queen’s gaze. Instead, he took a sip of the wine, and instantly found himself carried away to another time, one lit with sunshine and love and hope, to days spent with his wife and son, before the Tangata had stolen everything away. He sighed as the images faded, to be replaced by one of Cara, sitting in the plaza of Fogmore, lit by the winter sun.
“In many ways, she was just like us,” he murmured. “A little strange, innocent, but I doubt we would have ever realised her true identity if not for the creatures we found in the caverns.”
He clenched imaginary fingers at the mention of the beasts, a shudder running down his spine. His memory of the time beneath the earth was foggy—he’d lost a lot of blood—but he could still recall the faces of those ancient creatures with terrifying clarity.
“I have read your report,” the queen murmured, pursing her lips. “The Goddess fought them off?”
Romaine nodded. “Her eyes turned grey, just like the Tangata—and those…other things. We believed it meant she was one of them. The creatures had slain several of the Tangata and we thought the sight had enraged her.” The words were bitter in his mouth, for that had been the first of many mistakes he’d made in the south. “It wasn’t until…the river that I realised who she truly was.”
“A shame,” the queen murmured, “though understandable, given the eyes. They were amber normally, no?”
“Yes,” Romaine replied. It seemed the queen had done her research well. “Those creatures, Your Majesty, I’ve never seen the like. If there are more of them…” He swallowed, lifting his left arm instinctively, and the queen’s eyes were drawn to the bandaged stump. Despite her calm demeanour, she shivered and rubbed her own wrist. Ignoring the gesture, Romaine went on: “Let’s just say, we could not have defeated them without Cara’s help. She fought like nothing I have ever seen, killed them with hardly a thought.”
As he spoke the words, Romaine was drawn back to the battle on the banks of the Illmoor. The way Cara had fought against the Tangata had been utterly different to the conflict in the tunnels of the Gods. In the darkness, her eyes had been mad, her blows wild, sickeningly strong. Beside the river though, she had fought with a cool precision and skill, and the Tangata she had downed had not been slain.
“Such a wonder, that the Gods allowed their magic to fall into the hands of humanity. No wonder it drove those sorry souls you discovered in the depths mad.”
“Mankind is not meant to wield such power,” Romaine murmured in agreement.
The queen only smiled. “It does lead me to wonder how Erika has wielded her magic gauntlet for so long. Tell me, did you notice a change in her, during your time south of the Illmoor?”
Romaine hesitated, recalling for an instant the way Erika had tortured Cara with the magic, when she’d thought the woman responsible for her ill fortune. That had been before they’d discovered Cara’s true identity, when they’d thought her a Tangatan spy, but even so, her actions had been vicious, vindictive…
…but then again, after discovering the Perfugian recruits butchered, Romaine had not acted much differently. Finally, he shook his head.
“No, not that I noticed.”
“A pity,” Amina mused, “though I suppose when we recover the artefact, her experimentation will serve me well.” She chuckled. “I admit, that was one of the reasons I permitted her mad expedition. The magic needed testing before I claimed it for my own.”
“That ‘mad expedition’ claimed the lives of my friends,” Romaine replied, struggling to keep the anger from his voice.
The queen looked up at that, her eyes widening with surprise. “The Perfugians, of course,” she said after a moment. “Their loss was…regrettable.”
Romaine ground his teeth, but said nothing. It was not his place to criticise the Flumeeren monarch, however much her decisions angered him. Instead, he found himself staring at the open grate of the brazier. The occasional pop came from the burning coals.
“You think me cold,” the queen said after a time. “I cannot deny it. The skill is one I have perfected much over the years, that ability to weigh my decisions without thought to personal sentiment. But then, that is the burden of a monarch.”
“Not to care for the people you rule?” Romaine asked, unable to keep the words to himself any longer.
“To focus on what creates the greatest good for my people, that which will protect the greatest number of lives.”
Silence fell at her words and Romaine couldn’t help but feel a touch of guilt. He said nothing, though. The queen might be forced to justify the death of dozens, or even hundreds, in protection of her nation, but he could not. Would not.
“I suppose she told you of the map?” the queen asked finally. “A shame I listened to her paranoia.” She snorted. “No doubt my rival king will be delighted to know the Archivist escaped with the only copy.”
“I saw the map.” Romaine hesitated. “I do not recall much of its details.”
“Nor I, sadly,” the queen replied. “Though there was one site…”
“The home of the Gods?” Romaine nodded, recalling the scarlet star that had marked the secret location, deep in the mountains east of Calafe. “Something a man isn’t likely to forget.”
“Yes, it would be quite the discovery,” the queen said, turning her head in the direction of those distant peaks. “I fear that is the reason Nguyen chooses now to act against me.”
“You cannot think he would be so bold as to break the prohibition?” No human had set foot in the Mountains of the Gods for centuries—or at least, none that had lived to tell the story.
The queen’s eyes remained distant, even as she spoke. “It is one of several eventualities I am considering,” she mused. Then she blinked, returning her gaze to Romaine. “Assuming your Goddess is her prisoner, where do you think the Archivist would go, should she be given the choice?”
Romaine hesitated, remembering the fervent glint that had come over Erika’s gaze when she spoke of the Gods and their power. A shiver ran down his spine as he realised the truth.
“If she were desperate enough…” He swallowed. “If the king allowed it, you’re right, she would make for the home of the Gods. There are no other sites left to explore, other than a handful deep in the southern territories of the Tangata.”
Amina sighed. “Yes, that is as I thought.” She shook her head. “No matter. With luck, we will have both the Goddess and my Archivist returned before the king can make his move.”
Romaine’s stomach twisted, though he wasn’t sure it was for the hope of Cara’s return, or the prospect of an approaching war between the kingdoms. Before he could find the words to reply, movement came from the entrance to the tent, and a man appeared between the flaps.
“Amina,” the newcomer said informally, then hesitated at the sight of the two of them by the brazier. “Didn’t realise you had company.”
A frown touched Romaine’s forehead as the man stepped closer to the light. His clothes were mud-stained and there was a weariness about his face that spoke of a long journey. He wore a rough-spun cotton tunic rather than the red uniform of a Flumeeren soldier. The guards outside must have recognised him though, for they had admitted him without commotion, despite the longsword he wore at his waist. The handle of a crossbow also hung over his right shoulder. A broad grin split the man’s face as he looked from the queen to Romaine, though he did not speak whatever unseemly thoughts might have generated it.
“Yasin,” the queen said in greeting, rising from her chair. “I hadn’t thought you would arrive until morning.”
“We rode for three days straight after I got your message, my lady,” Yasin replied, falling into a half-bow that seemed more mocking than respectful.
Romaine’s frown deepened and he found himself reaching for the hilt of his own sword. The newcomer did not miss the movement. He straightened, feet slipping into a defensive stance, though his hands did not stray near his blade. Romaine froze, sh
ifting his gaze to the man’s face. He still wore the mocking grin, but there was a hardness to the sky-green eyes now. Whatever the man’s outward appearance, this Yasin was a warrior.
Silence hung over the tent as the two regarded each other, until the queen stepped between them.
“Enough of that,” she snorted, waving a hand. “Romaine, this is Yasin, captain of my…private security. Yasin, this is Romaine, soldier of Calafe.”
The two warriors eyed each other for a moment longer, before Romaine finally nodded and took his hand from the sword hilt. A trickle of despair touched him as he realised how little good the weapon would have done him anyway. The weapon was unfamiliar in his hand. Even his greater size and reach would not have meant much against an expert swordsman—and Romaine had no doubt the queen only employed the best. Silently, he resolved to start practicing from that night onward.
“Thank you for the drink, Your Majesty,” Romaine said finally, “it was a rare treat. But I will bid you goodnight. My injuries still bother me, and I must rest if I am to be any use to you in the coming days.”
The queen smiled. “Of course, Calafe, rest well.”
Nodding his thanks, Romaine strode past the two and out into the night—though not before he caught a soft snort of laughter from Yasin. Anger flared in Romaine’s stomach but he ignored the man. He was in no position to fight the man, or any other. No, he needed to regain his strength, and his skill.
Clenching his fist, he breathed in the night air. Then he strode into the night, seeking Lorene. If the man truly wanted to redeem himself for not travelling south, he could volunteer as Romaine’s sparring partner.
8
The Soldier
Fear shone in the woman’s eyes as she tore herself free of Lukys and retreated. Before he had a chance to question her, a hand of iron grasped him by the arm and dragged him away. He stumbled, almost falling, before straightening to find himself face-to-face with Sophia.
What are you doing? her voice hissed into his mind.
Seeing her anger, Lukys tried to shrink away. She held him fast, looking for all the world like she was about to take the revenge he had been anticipating these last days.
“She’s…human!” he gasped, panic forcing the words from his mouth before he could stop them.
Sophia hesitated, a frown furrowing her brow. Behind her, Dale was struggling with one of the other Tangatan guards, but he froze at Lukys’s words.
“What?” he gasped, twisting to try and see past Lukys and Sophia.
But the woman and the Tangata that had been with her had already fled. Lukys’s heart pounded in his ears as he locked eyes with Sophia.
“What was she doing here?” he hissed, yanking at the arm that held him. To his surprise, she released him. He paused, drawing in a breath. “What are we doing here?”
Dale looked confused by the outburst, but Lukys paid him no attention. Glancing beyond his fellow recruit, he scanned the other Tangata moving about the streets, squeezing their way past the roadblock their group had formed across half the avenue. With the sun now streaming down between the rooftops, it was easy to see their eyes, to recognise the eerie greyness—
There!
A man walked by, hazel eyes focused on the path ahead. Then another, this one a woman with brown eyes. Humans. There were humans in New Nihelm, in a city of Tangata. And suddenly he thought he knew why he and Dale were there.
“They’re slaves,” he croaked.
“Wha—” Dale broke off as the other guards gripped him by the arms and started dragging him down the street.
Lukys turned his gaze on Sophia, waiting for her to do the same with him. But she made no move to grab him again, only gestured in the direction the others had taken Dale.
Come, Lukys, she said. You will not find your answers here.
Swallowing, Lukys considered trying to run. But even if he could evade Sophia’s lightning reactions, where would he go? The Tangata were everywhere; they would catch him before he made it a block. Finally he let out a long breath and nodded. Sophia took hold of his arm again and led him along the street.
They soon caught up with Dale and the other guards. His friend had given up his struggles, though a look of relief appeared in his eyes when he saw Lukys. Released from their guards, they fell into step together, though now Sophia and the others hardly gave them a foot of breathing space.
They must have covered another half a mile after that. Lukys paid more attention to the faces of those they passed this time, and soon spotted more of the strange, human citizens of the city. He didn’t try to contact any of these others, and for their part, the humans kept their eyes downcast, averted from the fresh prisoners being marched past.
Finally they found themselves at the edge of the island again, though this time in the western reaches. There they passed beyond a low flood wall, out into a broad plaza of ash-stained tiles. The river bordered the opened space to north and south, while directly across the plaza from where they had entered stood a single building in the shape of a pyramid.
Lukys’s heart throbbed as he recognised it as a Basilica to The Fall. Stretching from the swirling waters to either side, the sloped granite walls loomed over the plaza, seeming to have a presence of their own. Most older cities had at least one of the structures, built in the early days of civilisation as appeasement to the Gods that had brought the darkness down upon them. Today few believed the temples had placated anything, and so it was surprising to find one in a city as young as New Nihelm. He supposed that living in the shadow of the Mountains of the Gods, the Calafe might have erred on the side of caution when it came to inciting Divine Wrath.
Regardless, the Tangata seemed to have found a use for the structure, for a large group waited outside the polished gold and brass doors. The rest of their party was already halfway across the plaza, Adonis in the lead, and at a push from Sophia, Dale and Lukys started after them.
As they neared the basilica, Lukys saw that the group standing outside the doors was similarly streaked in mud and filth. He frowned, wondering whether another group of Tangata had also returned from the wilderness. The gentle buzz of conversation carried to them on the breeze…
Lukys’s heart lurched as he realised the group was speaking out loud. They were humans, others captured by the Tangata and brought to the city as prisoners. But where would the Tangata have found so many humans this side of the river…
…he glimpsed a face in the group. His mouth fell open—then he was rushing forward, leaping past Sophia, Dale only a step behind. He recognised that face, these people, those filthy blue uniforms.
“Travis!” he bellowed.
Travis’s eyes widened in shock, before a grin split his face. Stepping away from the rest of the Perfugians, he opened his arms and dragged Lukys into a hug. Lukys gasped as the bigger man crushed the air from his lungs, but there was laughter on his lips as they broke apart.
“What are you doing here?” he gasped, still gaping at the sight of his friend alive.
The rest of the Perfugian recruits gathered nearby, though they were not so bold as to approach Lukys as Travis had. Their numbers had been reduced to just fifteen including Lukys and Dale, just a fraction of the fifty men and women that had arrived on the frontier just a few short months ago. But still a far cry more than he’d feared.
“Where else would I be?” Travis replied with a grin.
His beard had grown out in the two weeks that had passed since they’d seen each other. Between his dishevelled uniform and the grime covering his face, he had seen better days. Footsteps came from behind them and Travis offered Dale a nod as his fellow noble born approached.
Beyond, Sophia and the rest of their escort didn’t seem overly concerned by their reunion, though they did not take their eyes off the group of humans. Adonis had already reached the Tangata that had been guarding the Perfugian recruits and now seemed to be waiting for something.
“We…found the village,” Lukys said finally, recall
ing the moment he’d stumbled into the cluster of abandoned buildings and seen the bodies of his comrades.
Travis’s face darkened and a scowl twisted his lips as he glanced at the nearby Tangata. “We were so close.” He shook his head, looking away. The village had been less than a day’s march from the safety of the Illmoor. Drawing in a breath, Travis went on: “There were too many to fight, but we stood our ground anyway. Only…after the first clash, with a dozen of us dead on the ground, the bastards just stood there, watching. Eventually one of us threw down their spear. Rest of us followed. Guess we figured it was worth trying to surrender.” He shrugged. “So here we are.”
Tears touched Lukys’s eyes, and without speaking he dragged his friend into another hug.
“I’m glad you’re here,” he said as they broke apart.
A grim smile appeared on Travis’s face as his gaze swept the plaza. “And the others?” he asked softly.
“We lost Groner,” Lukys said, feeling guilty that he’d hardly thought of the man since that terrible time in the tunnels beneath the earth. “Romaine lost his hand, but the others are fine. They got away.” He hesitated, thinking about Cara. Travis didn’t know what she was. “We, ah, have a lot to catch up on.”
Beside them, Dale snorted. “That’s an understatement.”
Travis exhaled hard, relief momentarily showing on his face, though there was still confusion in his eyes.
Lukys shook his head. “Later,” he said, looking past Travis and the other Perfugians to where Adonis and most of the Tangata had gathered before the polished doors. “What’s happening here?”
“Your guess is as good as mine,” Travis replied with a shrug. “We arrived in the night. They put us in some building until the morning, then brought us here.” He shivered, and Lukys glimpsed the fear his friend was hiding behind the calm façade. “Isn’t it creepy?” His eyes were fixed on Adonis’s group. “They never make a sound, yet they’re communicating.”
“It’s that damned magic they stole from the Gods,” Dale answered, his face hardening. “I wonder if that’s why Cara came, to take it back?”
