Wrath of the Forgotten

by Aaron Hodges

  “What?” Travis said, his eyebrows knitting together in a frown.

  “Ah…” Dale trailed off, turning to Lukys for help.

  Lukys swallowed. “Err…you know how Cara was always wearing her furs, even inside?”

  Travis nodded, though his eyes showed he didn’t know where Lukys was going with the subject.

  “Well…you see…it turns out she was hiding something…”

  “She’s got bloody wings!” Dale exclaimed.

  Lukys suppressed a groan. “It’s true,” he said to Travis’s confusion. “She’s one of them, one of the Gods.”

  Before Lukys’s eyes, the colour drained from his friend’s face. “Wh…what?” Travis’s mouth opened and closed, but no further words came out.

  “Easy, man,” Dale said gently, patting Travis on the back.

  Lukys nodded and was about to speak further when he felt another presence brush against his mind.

  Lukys.

  A shiver ran down his spine and he turned to find Adonis approaching, Sophia at his side. Behind him, his friends froze, and even the murmurs of the other recruits faded to silence. Lukys swallowed as he looked into the eyes of the senior Tangata, remembering his rage back in the clearing. He’d hoped Adonis was done with him.

  Come with us, Lukys. Sophia’s voice was softer than the senior Tangata’s, but it was clear the instructions were not optional.

  He swallowed as the two came to a halt before him. He hesitated, waiting several moments before turning to his friends.

  “I…I think they want me to go with them,” he rasped, still unsure about how to tell them of his ability.

  Sophia caught him by the arm before the others could respond, and Lukys was dragged away. Travis and Dale watched after him, lips downcast, eyes haunted. They looked for all the world like they had just attended his funeral.

  Swallowing, Lukys forced his eyes ahead. What are you going to do with us? he asked, trying to direct the question at Adonis.

  That is for the Matriarch to decide.

  He offered no further explanation. Lukys allowed himself to be shepherded past the other recruits towards the polished doors of the basilica. They swung open as two of the Tangatan guards entered first, revealing darkness beyond. Swallowing, Lukys took one last glance at the sunlit sky before the black swallowed him up.

  Bright spots danced across his vision as the doors closed again behind them, and he blinked, struggling to pierce the gloom. Movement flickered somewhere within, betrayed by the gentle whisper of clothing, of leather boots upon stone.

  A gentle push from behind urged Lukys forward. He staggered, and glancing around, he managed to pick Sophia’s face from the shadows. Swallowing, he obeyed her silent command, taking tentative steps on the smooth floor, afraid the ground might drop out from under him at any movement.

  Slowly his eyes adjusted, and he began to make out shadows around the room. Light from above led his gaze to tiny windows set at the point of the pyramid high overhead. Returning his eyes to the ground, the room began to take shape from the dark.

  The basilica had only one enormous chamber, its inward sloping walls leading up to that single point above. Amidst the shadows, he could see no other entrances or inner rooms, not unless they were hidden behind the altar of the Gods.

  Set upon a dais raised some four feet above floor level, a giant slab of marble dominated the room. Otherwise the place was unadorned, though as Lukys took another step, he caught a shimmer from the base of the dais. He frowned, moving closer, and realised the dais was situated in the centre of a great pool of water. It seemed to be flowing slowly around the stone, though a glance at the walls did not reveal a source.

  Movement drew Lukys’s eyes back to the altar, and a figure stepped forward. Rustling came from around the room as all the Tangata knelt and pressed foreheads to stone. Before he could ask what was going on, Sophia gripped him by the shoulder and pressed him down. He cried out, legs weakened from the endless march south giving way beneath her strength, forcing him to his knees.

  Quiet! Sophia hissed in his mind.

  There was a sense of urgency in her voice, and Lukys bit back his cry, heart suddenly racing. Turning to face the altar, he stared at the figure that had appeared there, trying to make out her features through the gloom. Swathed in long robes, she could only be the Matriarch that Adonis had spoken of. She stepped closer, and the light from above fell across her face.

  The breath hissed from Lukys’s lips as he looked on the aged face. He had never seen an older Tangata before—those they fought were always young, their appearance that of humans in their twenties. This creature though, her face was more wrinkles than skin, and her hair was a pale grey, drained of its colour by the countless passage of years. Her hands were speckled with age spots, and her eyes…Lukys swallowed. They were pure white. Without the grey of the Tangata, he might have thought her human…yet there was something about her manner, about the way she stood, that left Lukys in no doubt as to what she was. And those eyes were looking directly at him.

  Adonis, what have you brought me?

  9

  The Fugitive

  Sitting on the pillowed bed, Erika stared down at the intricate lattice of metal fibres that covered her hand. It clung to her flesh, so close she could run her hand from gauntlet to her arm and hardly feel the difference. The strange metal was even warm to the touch, as though it had become a part of her, feeding off her energies.

  Without thinking, she clenched her fist and felt the familiar thrum of its magic. The soft glow bathed her face, radiating a new heat now, one that promised power, promised glory. She shivered and released it once more, and the sensation faded. Disgust replaced it, clogging her throat, and she thought of all the terrible things she had done with this gauntlet.

  Ibran, her assistant turned traitor, deafened, blind, abandoned in the darkness.

  The Tangatan prisoner in Amina’s court, screaming its agony.

  Cara, writhing beneath the gauntlet’s power, begging for her mercy.

  Standing suddenly, Erika strode to the window and looked out over the rooftops of the fortress proper. It had been five days since their arrival, and she had only seen the king one other time, a brief visit in which she’d handed over the map showing the hidden locations of ruins that had once been occupied by the Gods. Little good it had proven—there was but one site inside the bounds of Gemaho, and it had apparently been discovered years ago.

  The remaining stars were beyond their reach, mostly hidden deep in the south, in lands that had been claimed by the Tangata generations ago. All but for the one marked high in the Mountains of the Gods. But not even Nguyen seemed interested in that venture. The Gemaho might not be religious, but even they avoided those forbidden peaks.

  Letting out a sigh, Erika turned from the window and began to pace. The inactivity was starting to grate on her, and the knowledge that Queen Amina was approaching had not helped at all. The woman was vicious, her resolve hard as iron. She would stop at nothing to get what she wanted.

  And she wanted the magic that had fused with Erika’s arm—even if it meant cutting it from her corpse.

  The room the king had placed her in was large and well-adorned, with furniture crafted of pinewood and lit by chandeliers of silver and brass. She had been forced to share the accommodations with Maisie, but thankfully the spy was rarely there—her bed had not even been slept in last night. Cara had been taken to separate quarters; Erika had not seen the Goddess since.

  Slumping back to her bed, she found herself staring at the gauntlet once more, wondering again at its power. The king’s words about how it worked on Cara had stayed with her. It had proven an effective weapon against the Tangata, but it still seemed strange that the Gods—or the Anahera, as Cara had called them—would create a weapon that could be used so easily against them.

  Did that mean it had been created by somebody else?

  A cold breeze blew across Erika’s neck. She had used the magic so r
ecklessly these last weeks, with hardly a thought to the consequences. The Tangata had been changed by the magic they had stolen, and she wondered now if the same could happen to her. But…it hadn’t harmed her, hadn’t changed her.

  Had it?

  No, surely not, or the king would not use its power so freely. Unless he too did not understand the power he wielded. How had he come by another of the artefacts anyway?

  Erika shook her head and scrunched her eyes closed. Questions upon questions. In her mind she recalled the way the king had struck Cara down. He had acted quickly, without hesitation, without even knowing Cara’s identity. A vicious act, without mercy.

  A click drew Erika’s attention to the entrance as Maisie entered. Rings circled the woman’s eyes and there was mud on her leggings, as though she had spent the night wading through the marshland beyond the walls of the fortress. Erika raised an eyebrow as the spy crossed the room and dropped onto the other bed.

  “I take it these nightly disappearances aren’t to see some secret lover?” she asked, trying to be friendly.

  The Gemaho woman grunted. “Afraid not.” Letting out a groan, she sat up and eyed Erika from across the room. “Your queen is drawing close.”

  A vice closed around Erika’s throat at the woman’s words and it was a moment before she managed to reply. “She’s heading here?”

  “With an army,” Maisie confirmed.

  Fear drove Erika to her feet. She paced the room again, fists clenched, warmth radiating through her body…

  She froze, her eyes falling to the gauntlet. Light shone from the metallic fibres and she realised she’d summoned its magic again without thinking. Letting out a slow breath, she relaxed her hand and the magic died.

  “How long do we have?” she asked quietly.

  “Less than a day.”

  “A day!” Erika cried.

  She swung around, panic gripping her…but there was no escaping the Queen of Flumeer. A moan built in her throat and she clutched her hands to her hair. What had she been thinking? Better that she had thrown herself upon Amina’s mercy than betray such a woman. She would get no clemency now.

  “Oh, calm down,” Maisie snorted, lying back on the bed. “You’re safe here, or had you forgotten? A fortress lies between us and the woman. Her army could hurl itself upon the walls of the Illmoor Fortress for a decade and never come a step closer to taking you.”

  “You don’t know her like I do,” Erika argued, though she ceased her pacing. Drawing in a breath, she sought calm. “The woman is devious.”

  “And you think Gemaho has survived all these years because Nguyen is not? Believe me, he has been three steps ahead of Amina for years.”

  The breath hissed from Erika’s nose as she exhaled sharply, but she did not argue further. There was little point. She slumped back to her bed.

  “Sorry,” she murmured. “It’s just…I’ve never felt so lost. None of this makes sense. Even this magic…I think it’s doing something to me.”

  “Oh?” Maisie asked, leaning forward on the bed. “Why would you think that?”

  Erika shook her head. “I don’t know.” She made a gesture, as though to dismiss her concerns. “Though…maybe you can help. The orb you have, the king’s gauntlet…how long have you had them?”

  Maisie eyed her for a long moment, as if weighing up whether that was information they could trust Erika with. In the end though, she must have proven herself worthy, for the woman let out a sigh.

  “Two years,” she replied. “We found them in our only ancient site, far to the east. There was a sealed room, much like the one you discovered in Flumeer, I hear. It held several artefacts, though only Nguyen’s gauntlet and my orb retain any power.”

  Erika nodded. “And the king…he hasn’t changed, having the gauntlet for so long?”

  “Not to my knowledge,” the spy replied with a smile.

  Despite herself, Erika let out a sigh, relieved. If the king hadn’t changed after using the gauntlet after two years, then…she frowned, glancing again at Maisie. She too wielded one of the artefacts of the Gods; could that have altered her perception of the king?

  Angrily Erika shook her head. She was being paranoid, wasn’t she? Surely Cara would have said something about the gauntlet earlier, if it could corrupt them. But then, the Goddess had rarely offered information freely…

  “I need to see Cara,” Erika said suddenly, coming to her feet. “It’s time I asked her some more questions.”

  “Ah…” The woman hesitated. “I don’t think she’s taking visitors right now.”

  Erika narrowed her eyes, suddenly suspicious. She should have checked on Cara days ago, but she’d been preoccupied with the queen and her own magical dilemmas. Now something about the spy’s behaviour set her suspicions aflame.

  “Where is she?” Erika demanded.

  Maisie sighed. “She’s safe…and secure.”

  “You put her in a cell, didn’t you?”

  “Well, we could hardly leave her in those chains after she got the first pair off, could we?” Maisie argued.

  “I want to see her.”

  Air hissed between the spy’s teeth as she exhaled, but after a moment she nodded. “Come on.”

  Maisie led her through the long corridors of the fortress until they came to a narrow stairwell of cold granite, leading down into the depths beneath the keep. Erika hesitated as the spy took a torch from its bracket, memories of other underground tunnels flickering into her mind.

  “You ready?” the spy asked, raising an eyebrow.

  Erika nodded quickly and they started down into the darkness. Maisie’s torch lit a bubble of light around them, but watching the flames flicker, Erika couldn’t help but think how easily they might be extinguished. Then the darkness would claim them. A shiver ran down her spine and she clenched her fist, reaching for the magic, before stopping herself.

  The stairwell ended in a narrow corridor lined with the iron bars of several cells. It stretched only a few yards—apparently Fort Illmoor hadn’t had a great need for jail cells until now. Maisie led her past several empty cells before coming to a stop at the last one. She held up the torch and glanced at Erika.

  “Well…ask your questions.”

  The breath caught in Erika’s throat as the flames illuminated the room beyond the bars. It held no furniture but for a steel-framed cot bolted to the stones and a bucket placed in the corner. There were no windows or other exits, though movement came from the corner as a rat squawked at the light, disappearing into a hole between the bricks.

  Erika’s gaze was drawn to the bed, where a figure sat, knees pulled up to her chest. Dirt-stained wings hung limp across the bed, though Erika was surprised to see the cuts the Goddess had suffered from the king’s attack already appeared to have healed. Slowly, Cara lifted her head, her amber eyes glinting in the lantern light.

  “So you finally decided to come,” she said as their eyes met.

  A lump lodged in Erika’s throat and she quickly dropped her gaze, unable to face that accusation, that anger. How far had she fallen, that it had come to this? She had seen her friend, the Goddess that had saved her life, imprisoned, locked away, all to save herself.

  “I was meant to go home, you know,” Cara’s voice whispered through the bars. “That night in the mountains, before I led you to your precious hidden site. I was meant to go home.”

  “I’m sorry,” Erika rasped, and her vision blurred. She turned to Maisie. “You can’t leave her like this. It’s not right. She’s a God!”

  “One of your Gods, not mine,” Maisie said, but her face flickered as she spoke the words, as though she found herself doubting them. Her fingers played with the hilt of her sword as she glanced into the cell. “Besides, it’s not my call.”

  “That’s right—it’s mine, Princess.”

  Erika swung around as the king’s voice carried down the corridor. He appeared a moment later on the granite stairwell, his way lit by the unnatural glow of his gauntlet
. Apparently, he had decided not to wear the riding gloves today.

  “She doesn’t deserve to be treated this way,” Erika argued, taking a step towards him. “Whatever you think she is, Cara has done nothing wrong.”

  “She did try to attack me,” Nguyen replied as he strode up. “I’d say imprisonment is a fairly light punishment for assaulting a monarch, wouldn’t you?”

  A growl came from inside the cell and Erika only shook her head. “You cannot be serious—”

  The king waved a hand, cutting her off. “Calm yourself, Princess,” he said, still using the moniker, much to Erika’s annoyance. He moved to stand before the bars of the cell. “The good Anahera has proven…difficult, but these are only temporary accommodations, while I have been making…other arrangements.”

  “Other arrangements?” Erika asked as Cara’s words echoed her question from inside the cell.

  Nguyen chuckled. “All in good time,” he replied, then offered a bow to the Goddess. “For now, I am afraid I must steal your visitors, Cara. There is something pressing we must attend to.”

  “Oh?” Maisie asked as the king turned away from the cell. Within, Cara had sat up and was watching them closely.

  “Yes, I am afraid things are coming to a head rather faster than I had forecast,” he said, looking from the spy to Erika. “The queen has arrived. There is to be a meet. With luck, I can forestall an attack long enough for my preparations to be completed.”

  “You’re going to talk with her?” Erika hissed.

  She clenched her fist, realising suddenly how precarious her situation was. The king already had a gauntlet of his own. With Cara and the map, there was little reason for him to protect her—not when the choice was between peace and a terrible war. Being the daughter of a dead king certainly wasn’t going to save her.

  The king’s eyes glinted in the light of his magic. “You’re afraid I will betray you?” he asked, as though he had read Erika’s thoughts.