Dreams of Fury: Descendants of the Fall Book IV

by Hodges, Aaron

  But the truth was, that woman had perished in those mountains, crushed by the weight of her discoveries, the knowledge of the Gods’ betrayal. Her spirit had faltered, and now she could not bring herself to stand again, to face the evils that threatened.

  Shivering, Erika swallowed that despair, and forced her attention to what had brought her to this place.

  In the other corner of the queen’s chambers, Cara crouched in a steel cage so small the Goddess could not even lay down straight. At least it was tall enough for the Anahera to stand, but her auburn wings hung limp, unable to stretch within the bars of her confinement. Erika was relieved to see the wing Cara had injured in the mountains had at least straightened. Did that mean the Goddess could fly again?

  Cara didn’t look up at their appearance, and Erika swallowed, wondering what torments her friend had suffered at the hands of the queen. Though…after what Cara had faced in the mountains, the condemnation of her father, the subjugation of her people, her brother brainwashed…dying at her own hand…

  “Cara,” the whisper slipped from Erika before she could contain it.

  The Goddess flinched at Erika’s voice, but it was a moment before she finally lifted her head. Her movements were slow, lethargic, as though she hardly retained the will to move. Amber eyes, once so full of life, met Erika’s gaze, vacant, empty.

  A tremor shook Erika, and ignoring the queen, she slipped across the room and fell to her knees beside the cage. “Cara,” she said again, trying to reach the Goddess through the bars. “Cara, what has she done to you?”

  But Cara only looked away. Defeat hung about her like a cloak, and Erika couldn’t help but recall her own despair on the deck above, the realisation that she was doomed, that she could not hope to stand against all the power of the queen.

  And yet…seeing her friend’s pain, Erika recalled their desperate battles in the mountains, how they had stood against the will of Farhan and Maya both. Erika had defied the Gods themselves—and lived to tell the tale. She had saved her friend from a fate worse than death. That had to count for something.

  “Cara,” she whispered, gathering her courage. Managing to reach through the bars, she wrapped a hand around the Goddess’s fingers and squeezed. “Be strong. I’m going to get you out of this.”

  Cara didn’t so much as lift her head this time. Erika’s stomach twisted, but giving her friend’s hand one last squeeze, she straightened.

  Queen Amina shook her head as she approached the cage, emerald eyes on the Anahera. “I thought the Gods would be regal, when they finally came for us. Still, I cannot ignore the danger they pose. It is fortunate you uncovered our people’s lost magic, Archivist.”

  Erika swallowed as she faced the queen. How did Amina know such things, secrets that had been kept from humanity for centuries? It had been Cara who had first revealed to Erika the origins of the gauntlet she wielded, that it was born of human magic, centuries past.

  Created in a time before the Anahera and Tangata had worked together to manufacture the fall of the world—and the destruction of human civilisation.

  Tightening her fist, Erika faced the woman down, though the flicker of light that came from her gauntlet only set her swaying on her feet. Her vision swirled, as though she’d just run a mile on an empty stomach. Which might very well be close to the truth—she still knew so little about the gauntlet’s power, about its costs. Watching the queen, she wondered how the woman had come to master her own device so quickly, what poor souls she had tortured to perfect its use.

  “How do you know about our ancestors, about the Anahera?” Erika demanded.

  The queen waved a hand. “The source of my knowledge matters not—you cannot deny its truth. The Anahera will come for us with their Tangatan allies, just as they did in ages past. Humanity lies divided, unprepared and ill-equipped to face them. Our people will perish unless they unite beneath my rule.”

  “You’re a traitor,” Erika spat.

  Amina snorted. “In more ways than you could possibly know,” she replied, “but it matters not. The people believe the Anahera to be our saviours, that they will come at the hour of our greatest need, but you and I know the truth. They will turn on us when the moment comes. I must prepare the kingdoms for what they truly are.”

  At that the queen spun, a flash of light bursting from her gauntlet. Erika flinched away, a scream on her lips, but for once the magic was not directed at her.

  Instead, it caught Cara in its terrible light.

  Shrieking, the Goddess thrashed on the floor of her cage, back arched, wings beating against the bars, veins popping on her neck. Her entire body taut, fingers bent like claws, Cara gasped, helpless within the steel cage, defenceless to the human magic. A moan rasped from the back of her throat—then abruptly, the Goddess stilled.

  Swallowing, Erika took a step towards the cage—before the Goddess looked up. Ice slid down her spine as she saw the grey eyes watching her from behind the bars, the familiar madness swirling in their depths, the rage, the need to rend and tear and destroy…

  The light from the queen’s gauntlet vanished as the woman lowered her arm. In the cage, the fight instantly went from Cara and she slumped back to the floor, soft sobs whispering from her throat. Erika’s eyes burned as she watched her friend, unable to comprehend the queen’s casual cruelty.

  “You see, Archivist? The beast lurks within your noble Goddess, waiting to emerge, to betray humanity as the founders of her people once did.” The queen spoke in a quiet voice, untouched by emotion. Her eyes did not leave Cara, though Erika thought she glimpsed…something in those emerald eyes. “Your treachery denied me for a time, but now I will show my people the truth. In Mildeth, humanity will learn what their Gods truly are.”

  “You can’t do this to her,” Erika whispered. “Cara is the best of them, the only one of the Anahera who believed in us, who refused to side with the Tangata,” she was pleading now, desperate to dissuade the queen from her plan. “You’re right, the others, they have allied themselves with the enemy, submitted to their new ruler, but Cara…she fought for us!”

  “My dear Archivist, are you truly still so naïve?” the queen questioned. “I thought you would have learned something the world by now, after all you have been through.”

  “I’ve learned,” Erika hissed, clenching her fist, gathering what fragile energy she could muster. “Learned to trust in my friends.” She drew in a breath. “To trust in Cara.”

  At that, she leapt at the cage, light dancing from her first. Thrusting out her arm, she slammed it against the locking mechanism, and prayed she was strong enough to do what was needed. Red light flashed across her vision, followed by swirling darkness as the last of her strength drained away. Half-blind, she slumped to the floor, ears ringing, the metallic taste of blood on her tongue. Barely able to move, her stomach convulsed and she found herself retching acidic bile to the floor of the cabin.

  A moan rasped from Erika’s throat as she lay there, unable to see, to hear, to know whether she had succeeded. In the mountains, the magic of the gauntlet had broken locks easily. Here though, half-starved, she feared the effort might have killed her.

  Finally her vision cleared and Erika found herself looking up at the brightly lit cabin.

  Her heart sank as she saw that the queen was unmoved, her arms crossed, a smile playing on her lips as she watched Erika. Except…no, she wasn’t looking at Erika, but something behind her. Stomach still convulsing, Erika struggled to push herself to her knees, to look around…

  …and saw that the door to Cara’s cage had swung open.

  Erika felt the darkness rising once more, the call of unconsciousness threatening to swallow her up. She fought it, clinging to her mind, to her sanity. If she lost consciousness, who knew whether she would ever wake again.

  Inside the cage, Cara had come to her feet and now stood staring at the queen. Wings spread, face set, she looked ready to spring, and yet…something kept her in place. Erika swallowed th
e acidic taste in her mouth, struggling to speak.

  “Cara,” she croaked. “Run, leave me!”

  But the Goddess did not flee and as Erika watched, she saw a tremor cross Cara’s face. Erika recognised the fear in her friend’s eyes, the knowledge that to go against the queen was to risk an agony that could threaten her very sanity.

  Laughter came from Amina as she uncrossed her arms and took a step towards them. “It seems my dear Archivist has yet to learn her lesson.”

  Shaking her head, the queen raised the gauntlet. Cara flinched, but to both their surprise, the queen only gripped the artefact with her spare hand. A hiss followed, then the strange metal fibres released their grip on the queen’s flesh. Erika inhaled sharply as the gauntlet slipped from the woman’s wrist. Tucking it into her belt, she gestured Cara forward.

  “Come then, Anahera, let us see your strength.”

  Standing in the cage, Cara’s eyes had widened. Her feathers quivered as she watched the queen for some sign of a trap, but…the woman was only human. She could not face an Anahera, not without her magic. No human came close to matching the Goddess’s speed, her strength.

  Hesitantly, Cara stepped from her prison. When the queen did not reach for the gauntlet, it seemed to grant her confidence, and spreading her wings, she snarled. Then suddenly she was surging across the cabin, wings beating hard, fingers outstretched. Erika flinched at the violence of the action—in the mountains, she had seen Cara tear a man limb from limb in the grips of one of her rages. Only Romaine’s dying pleas had brought the Goddess back from that madness. If she lost control here…

  The harsh thud of a fist striking flesh reverberated through the cabin, followed by a crash as Cara struck the floor. Erika watched, shocked, as the Goddess thrashed, wings entangled, fingers clutching at the boards, unable to stand, to regain her feet. When she finally managed to get her limbs right beneath her, she struggled to rise, to regain her footing…

  …only to meet a second blow from the queen. There was a sharp crack as Amina’s fist connected with the Goddess’s brow, then the Anahera went down in a heap. Wings twitching, this time she did not rise, did not even move. Instead, Cara’s amber eyes slid closed as she slipped into unconsciousness.

  6

  The Sovereign

  Lukys paused in the doorway of their apartments as he caught a glimpse of Sophia within. She stood at the edge of their balcony, looking down into the now empty amphitheatre, the wind tugging at her curly brown hair. From where he stood Lukys could not see her face, but he could sense her mind once more, the grief roiling within.

  He swallowed at the depths of his partner’s sadness. It came not just from Sophia’s own personal loss, but that of all her people, the pain passed on by those who had been perished a decade before, when the Calafe had led the invasion of Tangatan territory. Lukys shuddered to think how many lives had been lost on both sides because of that disastrous campaign. The war between their peoples had been born in those dark days.

  But the past was fixed, unchangeable. There was nothing he could do for what already come to pass—he could only hope to change what was yet to come. Drawing in a breath, he moved through the apartment, out onto the balcony where his partner waited.

  “Are you okay?” Lukys asked as he came alongside her and leaned against the railing.

  Sophia did not look at him, but he could see the tears shining on her cheeks. Drawing in a breath, he looked out over Ashura. The spiral pattern of the citadel spread out before them, its swirling labyrinthine a testament to the arrogance of Sovereigns past—a masterpiece of architecture created only for their eyes. The passages of the outer citadel had no roofing, leaving them exposed to the elements and the eyes of the Sovereigns above. Lukys could see even now the men and women who were their subjects moving about the corridors. Various chambers housed nobles and dignitaries such as King Nguyen, and these formed domed circles amidst the spirals, like the compartments of some giant beehive.

  Beyond the citadel, Ashura spread out across the slopes of the hillside, its multitude of marble buildings a stark contrast to the shacks their people have first settled in. At his back, Lukys could feel the icy chill of the mountains above the city, the endless depths of the fur forests. The Perfugians had built their city as a collision between civilisation and wilderness.

  They were so like the Calafe, in that way. But there were differences here as well. Where the Calafe left no barrier between themselves and wilds, living in small villages amidst the trees, the Perfugians built great stone walls around themselves, leaving the wilderness untouched, but separate from their lives.

  But what did any of that matter? The Calafe had fallen, their lands taken by the Tangata, ruled over now by the Old One. Lukys wondered whether the creature would remain there, safe on the island of New Nihelm, or if she would march soon against the kingdoms of humanity.

  The smarter tactic would be to remain, to consolidate her power, but Lukys’s new knowledge whispered to him. The Old Ones were not patient. She would seek to use her newfound army, to lead the Tangata against her enemies, to strike first, before they had time to organise. Even now, the Old One might be leading a force through Calafe, intent on striking at the Flumeeren border. Unless forewarned, they could not stand against so many.

  But if Lukys were to send a message, it would warn Amina of the new leadership in Perfugia, that the Sovereigns had allied themselves with her enemy, King Nguyen.

  “I thought we’d left this all behind,” Sophia said suddenly. Lukys started, glancing at her from the corner of his eye as she turned towards him. “I wanted to escape the wars, the killing, Lukys,” she continued. “Not to wage one against my own people.”

  A pounding began in the back of Lukys’s skull as he sensed his partner’s uncertainty, and for just a moment he imagined himself standing in her place, facing the choice between the lives of her people, and that of her adopted home. How would he react, had he been asked fight against Perfugia? Not just Tasha and her guards, but the ordinary men and women of the city. Maya would bring all the Tangata who had lived in New Nihelm. Young and old, they could not resist her call, the power of her Voice. Even those such as they had encountered in the seaside village, innocents who had refused to participate in the war against humanity, would be coerced into joining her campaign.

  His stomach twisted and he drew her into a gentle hug. Shuddering, Sophia buried her head in his shoulder and began to sob, but Lukys found he could offer his partner no words, no reassurance for the choice they faced. What could he possibly say? That it would be okay, that they would save her people, find a way to kill the Old One while protecting the Tangata she controlled?

  It was impossible. Maya was too powerful, too dangerous. Even if they could reach her, somehow sneak past her armies and Tangatan guards and confront the creature, not one of them had the strength to face her. Cara was the only being he had seen match blows with the Old Ones, and she had vanished with the Erika in the Mountains of the Gods. They may never see her kind again.

  Their only hope was to use overwhelming force, to defeat the Old One with sheer weight of numbers. That meant an army, one that must first face the Tangata she controlled.

  There was no other choice but war.

  So Lukys held Sophia tight and waited for her grief to pass. And as they stood together, his eyes drifted to the fleet of ships upon the harbour, the hundreds flying the colours of Perfugia and Gemaho, more even than they had soldiers to field. Some would remain in Perfugia, they had already decided, to protect the kingdom should their campaign fail. As for the rest…

  …the rest would bring fire and sword to the mainland.

  And death to Sophia’s people.

  “I want to live, Lukys,” Sophia rasped, lifting her head from his shoulder. Her eyes met his. “I want to laugh and love and grow new life.”

  Lukys swallowed. There was such longing in her voice, in her eyes…leaning down, he kissed her, his lips hard against hers, pulling her tight
against him, holding her desperately, as though at any moment she might be lost to him. When they finally broke apart, he was panting. A fiery desire burned in his chest, to lift his partner into his arms and carry her to their chambers, to grant her everything she desired.

  Instead, he gently brushed a lock of hair from her eyes. “You will have it all,” he whispered. “I promise.”

  A tear spilt from her eye as she watched him, streaking her cheek. Her lip quivered and when she spoke again, her voice was so soft he barely heard her words. “At what cost, Lukys?”

  Lukys shivered, but reaching down, he entwined his fingers through hers, then leaning in, he kissed the hot tears from her cheeks. “Don’t cry,” he whispered. Drawing their hands up between them, he held her tight. “We will find a way, Sophia.”

  “How can you be so sure?”

  Has he ever lied to us?

  Lukys looked around as two figures stepped from the shadows. It was still strange to see Keria and Isabella, Sophia’s sister Tangata, garbed in armour and equipped with the silver spears of their new position, but their support was welcome. He nodded his thanks as they approached, laying their hands on Sophia’s shoulders as she stepped away from him.

  A wry smile crossed Sophia’s lips as she looked to them. Are you ganging up on me, sisters?

  Laughter whispered in Lukys’s mind before Keria, who had chosen Dale as her partner, turned to him.

  No, sister, we stand with our family. We expect our strange brother here to do the same.

  Lukys inclined his head at the respect they’d shown him, naming him as family. He and the other Perfugians who had returned from the south felt the same. After all, it had been their fellow Perfugians who had condemned them to a cruel death on the frontlines. Whereas Sophia and the Tangata…they had welcome the Perfugian recruits into their homes, into their lives. It was a kindness none of them would forget.