by Aaron Hodges
…except the guards weren’t watching the water. An idea started to form in his head.
The place Sophia knew turned out to have been an old waterfront restaurant. By the polished mahogany furnishings and crystal chandeliers, Lukys thought it had probably been an expensive place to eat once, frequented by the wealthy of Calafe society. Apparently, the Tangata hadn’t been so easily impressed, for a thick layer of dust now covered every surface.
Sophia led them through a room stacked with dining tables waiting for patrons that would never return, to where a small jetty stretched out into the river. Lukys was relieved to see the nearby buildings were dark, leaving the river to reflect the faint glint of moonlight.
Boards creaked as Dale stepped onto the jetty. He froze, but no movement came from the surrounding buildings, and they were a good quarter mile upriver from the bridge now. Not even Tangatan guards would hear the noise from such a distance.
Beneath the planks, the dark waters of the Shelman River swept past, shimmering in the starlight. Lukys glanced back at the others, wondering how they would cope with such a crossing. There was no way any of them could fight the current, but if his plan worked, that wouldn’t matter.
Exhaling, he looked out across the river, but even by the light of the half moon, he could barely see beyond the jetty. In those currents, there would be no knowing whether they were making progress. They could be ten feet from the other side and not know it until their feet struck rock. And the icy waters would quickly drain their strength. It would be a dangerous crossing, even for the best of swimmers.
Hopefully they wouldn’t need to swim the entire crossing.
“We’re going to use the bridge,” he said, his words carrying in the silence of the night. “Once you’re in the water, kick out as far as you can, but don’t fight the current. Eventually the river will carry you beneath the bridge. When that happens, grab for the support pillars. Use them to cross the rest of the way. Hopefully we’ll be far enough out into the river that the guards won’t hear us.
The Perfugians stared back at him, fear shining in their eyes. He cursed inwardly, suddenly doubting himself. Could they do this? Surely there was another way to escape, some plan that didn’t risk them all perishing in the icy waters…
Travis stepped forward and clapped Lukys on the shoulder. “Let’s do it.”
Moving past Lukys, he took hold of a ladder at the end of the jetty and slid over the side. Isabella followed him, her eyes catching Lukys’s. He suppressed a shudder, but said nothing. The Tangata were powerful swimmers, capable of crossing even the broad expanse of the Illmoor. Perhaps they could help their partners survive what was to come.
“Hurry The Fall up.” Travis’s voice came from below. “The water’s bloody freezing.”
“Go,” Lukys whispered. “Wait for us on the other side.”
His words seemed to break some spell that had been cast over the rest of the recruits. Dale followed and one by one they stepped past him, jaws clenched, eyes fixed on that distant, invisible shore. Freedom. Finally only Lukys stood on the jetty—until a figure stepped from the shadows, and he realised Sophia had not yet entered the water. A lump lodged in his throat as the Tangata approached.
Lukys, she whispered. He tried to turn away, but she caught him by the arm. Lukys, please, what’s wrong?
He looked at her and saw the pain in those pure grey eyes, the fear. He swallowed, seeing again their dance, the soft music whispering in his ears, their kiss. His heart throbbed and he could almost taste her lips, feel her breath against his cheek…
His stomach twisted as another image came to him, of Adonis towering over them, his mind crushing them down. Anger returned and he tore his arm loose.
“You know,” he spat.
Her eyes slid closed and he could see the truth on her face, so much more open than the other Tangata, as though she could not help but reveal her true emotions to him. He ground his teeth, fists clenched, wishing…for what?
I can explain, she whispered, reaching out an arm.
He stepped back. “Explain what, Sophia?” he asked, voice bitter. “That you’ve been manipulating us all along, controlling us? Is that what you can explain?”
No! she cried, a tear streaking her cheek. That’s not how it works, not how we use our Voices!
“No?” Lukys growled. “Are you telling me you and your brethren were happy to bow to him, to allow him to murder us?”
I… Sophia trailed off, her eyes wide. Then she hung her head, and Lukys sensed shame rolling off her. What Adonis did, feeding our despair, using our fears to subdue us, it was forbidden.
And yet each of you has done the same to us.
We haven’t, Sophia hissed, matching his gaze now. At least, not as he did. We can only…encourage what is already there—trust, appreciation, happiness, joy. That is why not all assignments are…successful.
Encourage? Lukys asked. He looked away. And what have you encouraged in me?
Nothing, Sophia murmured. She stepped towards him, placing her hand on his arm again. He shuddered, but this time he did not pull away. Don’t you see, Lukys? Your Voice, it’s…stronger than mine. That was why you could resist Adonis, why the humans follow you. I could never have encouraged you, nor manipulated you as you claim. I could only wait for you to see me as I truly am—rather than the monsters from your history books.
Lukys’s heart throbbed at her words, and yet…how could he believe them? After everything she had lied about, everything the Tangata had concealed from them, the trust was gone. He looked at her, at the woman he had spent so much time with these last weeks, and felt only a coldness in his core.
And the others? Lukys asked, his inner voice bitter.
Sophia shook her head. What they feel is real, Lukys, the Tangata replied. Their partners only helped them see the truth…faster. Please, Lukys…you have to see—
“No,” Lukys whispered. He swallowed, glancing back at her. “I don’t. I’m sorry, Sophia. You’re right, I can see you’re not the monsters we thought. But…this is wrong. I can’t trust you.”
With that he turned and stepped to the edge of the dock. The dark waters rushed past below, silent, the others disappeared into the night. He let out a long breath, blood thundering in his ears, and fought the urge to turn back, to embrace the warmth he had found in this strange city. Clenching his fists, he leapt.
And plunged into the icy depths.
31
The Fallen
Romaine froze as Yasin’s voice whispered across the pass. Cara weighed heavily on his shoulders and exhaustion had wormed its way deep into his soul. His legs ached from the ascent and his head was pounding. He was at the end of his endurance, but he turned to face the man who had tried to kill him.
Wearing a smug grin, the Flumeeren pointed his crossbow at Erika. He was obviously well aware of the powers contained in her gauntlet.
“Take it off,” Yasin growled, his finger wrapped around the trigger. “Now, like old Nguyen did before.”
Breath held, Romaine glanced at Erika. He had seen her down Tangata from as far away as Yasin stood from her. She could do it now—if she had the courage. It was almost certain that Yasin would be able to fire before the magic incapacitated him, but at least then he and Maisie would have a chance to stop the queen’s man.
No, even without the crossbow, he’s more than my match.
Romaine’s shoulders fell as he realised they would all die here. Erika must have known it as well, for she reached up and pressed her thumb to the gauntlet around her wrist. There was a soft hiss as the relic released, before it dropped to the ground with a gentle ring of metal chains.
“Good, good,” the rogue laughed. His beady eyes turned on Romaine. “Why don’t you put the Goddess down now, Calafe? I’m sure the burden couldn’t have been easy, carrying her all this way.”
The hairs on Romaine’s neck stood on end as he stared Yasin down. In his mind, he saw again and again the image of Lorene falling
, crossbow bolt in his chest. He clenched his fist, straining for something—anything—that might allow him to fight back. But there was nothing.
Cara whimpered as he lowered her slowly to the stones. Then he rose and stepped in front of her.
“Why are you doing this?” he growled.
“Why, I haven’t done anything.” Yasin laughed and spread his hands. Romaine tensed as the bow was lowered, but on the uneven slope he would never reach the man fast enough. “It was the villainous Gemaho who kidnapped the daughter of the Gods. The noble queen of Flumeer tried to save her, but alas, we only arrived in time to take vengeance.”
Romaine bared his teeth. “I won’t let you harm her.”
“Yasin…” A murmur from Erika drew their attention. She still stood beside her fallen gauntlet, but now her eyes narrowed as she stared at the man. “Why do I know that name?”
“You can’t stop me, Calafe,” Yasin continued, ignoring the Archivist. “I do as Amina commands. I’m sure you would have done the same for your king, if the fool hadn’t gotten himself killed.”
A sharp intake of breath came from Erika, but this time Yasin kept his attention fixed on Romaine. The man seemed to have decided he was the most dangerous of the three. If only he knew how Romaine’s entire body ached, he might have reconsidered.
“You’re one of Amina’s spies,” Maisie said. Stones shifted as she moved to the side, as though trying to divert his attention.
Yasin laughed at that. “Spy, soldier, cutthroat.” He shrugged. “I have the honour of being whatever my queen requires of me.” He flicked a knowing glance at the woman. “I hear you have some experience in that regard…it’s Maisie, no?”
Maisie sneered. “You’re little more than a common thug, Yasin.”
“No, no, no,” Erika staggered forward a step, breaking into the conversation. She pointed an accusing finger at Yasin. “I know you!”
The smile slipped from the cutthroat’s face. “Ah, so you finally recognise me, Princess.”
“You were a friend of my father.”
“For a learned woman, you took a long time to make that connection.” Yasin smirked. “I guess gullibility runs in the family.”
Romaine’s blood ran cold at the man’s words. “What is he saying?” he asked, looking from Yasin to Erika in disbelief.
She shook her head. “It’s not possible,” she whispered. “You…you rode south with him. You’re…dead!”
“Ay.” Yasin turned the crossbow on Erika. “Now I can see the resemblance. That open-mouth surprise, that disbelief. Your father looked much the same when I drove my blade through his chest.”
“No!” Erika screamed.
A ringing sounded in Romaine’s ears as he stared at Yasin, trying to understand, to pry meaning from his words. He had killed Erika’s father, the Calafe king. His king. But that wasn’t possible. King Micah had ridden south with the allied armies, to destroy the threat of the Tangata once and for all. It had been the beasts that had slain him…
…but then why would the queen’s own cutthroat have been friends to the Calafe king? Not unless…
“She betrayed us,” Romaine whispered, but Erika drowned out his words.
“You killed my father!” Erika screamed. She started towards the killer, but Yasin lifted the crossbow and she froze.
“Now, now, Princess.” He tisked. “I’d rather not have to kill you. The queen was rather excited by the prospect of welcoming you back to her court.”
Fists clenched, Erika’s entire body was trembling. “Why?” she hissed.
The rogue raised an eyebrow. “Why? Why else?” he asked, looking from the Archivist to Romaine. “Calafe lies shattered, Gemaho grasps at empty straws for its survival, and Perfugia withdraws more and more from the workings of the continent. Meanwhile, Flumeer is resurgent. All because of that disastrous campaign.”
“But the Tangata,” Romaine growled, clenching his fist. In that moment he wanted nothing more than to reach out and throttle the man. “Surely the queen couldn’t have thought…” He trailed off, unable to complete the sentence.
“The thoughts of the lion rarely make sense to the sheep,” Yasin replied. “Who would think the death of a king could lead to the fall of his nation. Yet here we are.”
“She cannot hope to fight the Tangata alone.”
Yasin’s face hardened. “The beasts are cursed by the Gods. They are destined for extinction.” There was a coldness to his eyes as he glanced at Maisie. “As are the Gemaho, when the Gods learn of the depravity that took place here.”
The three of them fell silent, staring into the eyes of the killer. Then to Romaine’s surprise, stones crunched behind him. He glanced back, and watched in horror as Cara pulled herself to her feet. Her face a motley grey, she took a trembling step towards Yasin.
“The Anahera will not help you,” she croaked, her voice barely audible above the wind whistling through the pass.
“Of course they will,” Yasin said easily. “They just need the proper motivation.”
The crossbow came up. A gasp came from Maisie. Erika screamed.
Romaine was already moving.
The bolt took him full in the chest, just as it had for Lorene. For the briefest of seconds, he felt nothing, only a rush of triumph, that he had stopped the arrow meant for Cara, that he had succeeded.
Then the pain struck, a searing, burning agony. It blossomed in his lungs and spread outwards like the tendrils of a rose, tearing and rending through his body, through his very being.
He staggered, then slumped to one knee as the strength went from his legs. Somewhere, someone was screaming, but he could barely hear them over the pounding in his ears. His vision swam and suddenly he was lying on the cold stones, staring up at Yasin. The man looked surprised, as though he couldn’t quite believe what Romaine had done. Before he could reload his crossbow, a blurred figure attacked with sword in hand, and the two danced out of Romaine’s field of vision.
The tear-streaked face of Cara replaced them as she fell to her knees beside him. She reached out a hand and her lips moved, but Romaine could no longer hear what she said. The agony was still growing, threatening to sweep him away on its irresistible tide. But he couldn’t let go yet—not until he knew she was safe.
“Run!” he tried to gasp, though he couldn’t know whether the word actually left his mouth.
Romaine! Inexplicably, Cara’s voice spoke into his mind, a keening, howling sound that pained him beyond even the arrow in his chest. Romaine, please, no!
Tears burned in Romaine’s eyes and somehow he lifted a hand, grasping at her jacket, desperate for her to flee, but his lips no longer seemed to work. He spoke them in his mind instead, a desperate prayer to the Goddess crouched beside him.
Cara, please, you have to run!
32
The Soldier
Lukys gasped as his head broke the surface. A pounding began in his skull and he struggled to inhale, the sheer cold pressing on his chest, making each breath a battle. He swung around, trying to find his bearings. Lights drifted past him, away to his right—houses occupied by the Tangata. The currents were carrying him downriver fast. He needed to make it farther from the shore before he reached the bridge, lest the guards notice his passage.
Turning, he kicked out. His boots slipped on the currents, making the going difficult, and his clothing threatened to drag him down. At least the spear he held helped to keep him afloat. Teeth chattering, he focused on the darkness ahead, seeking some sign of the others, of the distant bank, of the bridge, but there was only the soft glint of the waters around him.
His body grew numb, the icy waters drawing away the last of his heat. Pain stabbed at his calves as he struggled on. At least he didn’t carry any of their supplies like the Tangata. How had the creatures managed to cross the Illmoor? Its waters were twice as wide as these. Already he could feel his strength fading, his desperate gasps unable to sustain him.
Time crept by, the moon high abov
e, the whispers of the river the only sound in his world. Soon, Lukys began to wonder if he had somehow missed the bridge. Surely it should not be taking so long to encounter it. Fatigue crept through his limbs, slowing his strokes, and he found himself glancing back, struggling to judge how far he’d come.
Something large loomed in the darkness, blocking out the moonlight. He gasped, realising the bridge was upon him. In the pitch-black, he grabbed desperately for a pillar. But its surface was smooth, cloaked in algae, and his fingers slipped. He cried out as the currents swept him between the pillars. Unable to see, he thrashed out with the spear, hoping to catch it on something, anything that would keep him from being dragged past the bridge—
Lukys lurched to a stop as something caught his spear, almost jolting it from his grasp. Water rushed around him and gritting his teeth, he held desperately to the weapon as he was dragged into a sheltered nook behind one of the columns. A hand went around his waist, pulling him in the rest of the way, until he found himself pressed against a warm body.
Grey eyes glinted in the darkness as Sophia held him close, keeping him from being sucked back into the river. Lukys swallowed, a shiver running through him, though he wasn’t sure whether it was from the cold or her closeness. He opened his mouth to thank her, but amidst the shadows she raised a finger to her lips, then pointed to the stones above.
Lukys’s heart lurched as he caught the soft tread of feet from overhead. He swallowed back the words he’d been about to speak. The steps grew closer, and he sensed the distant whisper of voices in his mind, still faint, but growing closer. He clutched at Sophia, her warmth bringing him back to life, and prayed the guards hadn’t—
I heard something, a voice announced, clear now. I swear.
