Dreams of Fury: Descendants of the Fall Book IV

by Hodges, Aaron

  Yet, Lukys found himself haunted by Nguyen’s words, by the king’s insistence they would have to choose, that the lives of his people must come first.

  But were the Tangata not his people too, even those they had left behind in New Nihelm? After all, the Perfugians shared common ancestors with Sophia and Keria and the others. There must be a way he could protect both, however impossible it might seem.

  Clenching his jaw, Lukys nodded in answer to Keria’s words. “We will find a way to free your people,” he said softly. “We must, or we do not stand a chance.”

  He could already hear Nguyen’s objections, but the king was wrong. Whether he liked it or not, the fact remained that even united, the forces of humanity could not stand against all the Tangata.

  It will not be easy, Isabella said. You have felt the power of Adonis’s Voice—he is only of the third generation. Maya is infinitely more powerful, strong enough to hold captive the will of our people, even over some distance.

  Lukys turned to Sophia. “Ay, but we are no longer just Tangata, or human,” he said quietly.

  As he spoke, he reached with his mind for hers, felt their consciousnesses reunited, the surging, burning force of their collective of minds, the power of a hundred Sovereigns long passed, all the way back to the ancient rule of the Old Ones. Those voices cried out in unison against the rise of Maya, at the threat to their people and Tangata both.

  Lukys’s mind thrummed with the power of their Voices, the harmony he felt with Sophia. Could they use this strength, these past minds and memories against Maya? Surely there must be a secret, some power, some weakness of the Old Ones they could exploit.

  Finally they looked back at their friends, and smiled.

  We are Sovereigns now. They said in unison. We will find a way.

  7

  The Tangata

  Adonis paced among the silent trees, ice crunching beneath his boots, ears still pounding with rage—even a day after the human’s insults. Even now, he longed to find her and tear out the creature’s throat for her impudence…

  …instead, he shuddered, recalling against his will the Tangata who had guarded the old Matriarch, who had turned on her to join Maya’s side. They had perished assaulting the city of the Anahera, but they had been of the third generation too. The Old One had spent long hours with them during the journey into the mountains, when Adonis had lingered with his people, helping them through the storm…

  He ground his teeth and clenching his fists, Adonis his mind back to the human, the revenge he would have against her. His heart raced at the thought of watching the life flee her eyes to see her fear as she realised death came creeping upon her…

  …how it pained Adonis that he not touched her, not yet. For now, all he could do was stalk the forest in search of another target for his rage. It would be a day yet before they reached human territory, and even then, they may need to search for their foes if Maisie’s information proved true.

  But when they did finally encounter the humans, when they destroyed the enemy armies and took more captives, Maisie would no longer have value.

  Then she would learn the true extent of his displeasure.

  In truth, only the Nyriah had kept Adonis from unleashing his rage against the human. Despite her subservience, the Anahera had stepped between them, protecting the creature’s welfare, just as she had been ordered.

  But that had not protected her from Adonis.

  Now he paused in his stride, turning to where the Anaheran woman shadowed him. He’d removed her from assignment with the human. She was too close to the cunning creature, it seemed to Adonis, and so he’d made her his own personal guard. To keep an eye on her…

  …though looking upon her now, a shiver ran down Adonis’s spine. She had defied him to protect the human, and so he had unleashed his rage against her instead. Now bruises covered Nyriah’s face and arms, just reward for her obedience. The pale skin typical of the mountainous Anahera seemed to bruise easily, though surely his blows could not have caused great damage to one of their kind. Certainly, Adonis suffered far more with Maya, when the lust took his mate and she thew him down beneath her…

  What makes you believe her children are your own?

  Adonis’s rage returned and he advanced on Nyriah. They were alone in the forest, and he saw the fear in her eyes now, saw her flinch at his approach. Instantly, he regretted his actions. It was the human that deserved his castigation. Not this sorry excuse for a god.

  “You should not have stopped me, slave,” he said harshly, looking up at the woman. He had quickly come to ignore the wings. Far from being a symbol of the Anahera’s strength and majesty, he saw them now as a reminder of their cowardice, of the unfulfilled promise of her people.

  “I was ordered to watch over her,” Nyriah replied meekly.

  “To keep her from escaping,” Adonis spat. He turned away, the anger slipping from him. “She will pay for what she said, one way or another.”

  “Yes, master.”

  He glanced at her. “That’s not…necessary.”

  The Anahera bowed her head but said nothing. Adonis shook his head. It didn’t matter what this creature said, what the human thought. He knew the truth. His future, the future of the Tangata, was bound to Maya. The children she birthed would be his, would give way to a new era for the Tangata. Within a generation the greatness of his people would be restored, while humanity would fail, crushed beneath the boots of the Tangata, reduced to mere servitude…

  A shiver ran down his spine as another image flickered into his mind, of bodies in the snow, of the dead children Maya had left in her wake. They too had been weak, too fragile to be worthy of her love, however much they wished to serve the Old One.

  She isn’t even one of you.

  Adonis clenched his fists, hurling the words from him. Maya was harsh, it was true, but everything she did was for the betterment of his people. After all, look what had come of their sacrifice, of the sacrifice of those they’d left behind. His people had conquered the Anahera, a feat unimaginable before her coming. And now…

  …now they marched new children through the snow. He swallowed, a lump lodging in his throat. The young Anahera were the picture of innocence, with their pale wings and wide eyes. They couldn’t understand this cruel world they’d suddenly been plunged into, the hardship and death and pain they faced.

  She reminds me of Farhan.

  Adonis looked around as Nyriah’s words whispered into his mind. The Anahera’s eyes widened at his attention, as though she hadn’t meant for the silent words to escape. His frown deepened and he advanced on her, watching the fear grow in her eyes, even as she clenched her fists, as her wings lifted in preparation for a fight.

  But he knew she would not resist him, not with the threat hanging over the Anaheran fledgelings. She might have lost her own child, but she would not risk the lives of the others.

  What did you say? he murmured.

  A tremor passed across her face and she dropped her eyes to the ground, wings slumping into the snow.

  “Please, forgive me, master. I spoke out of turn.”

  I asked you what you said, slave.

  “I…only that the Old One…she reminds me of my former partner, of Farhan.”

  The one Maya slew? Adonis frowned. Explain.

  Nyriah shook her head. He could see that she regretted speaking, could read the terror in the white of her aura. “Only that she is powerful, that she dominates those within her control, just as…just as Farhan did for our own people,” she hesitated, still looking away. “But…I would not think to speak for your master.”

  She is not my master, Adonis hissed.

  This time Nyriah did not flinch away. Instead, she faced him, eyes wide with defiance, though her body was tense, awaiting his blows.

  She is my mate, Adonis said instead, my Matriarch. Soon-to-be the mother of my young. She is more powerful than any other being alive. It is her right to dominate, to control those too weak to deci
de their own fate.

  “So very like Farhan indeed,” the Anaheran woman replied softly.

  No, Adonis rumbled. Your Farhan was weak, trapped in a past long since vanished.

  And it is so different with the Old One?

  Enough, Adonis snarled at her words, angered again despite himself. He turned away, struggling to contain himself. Drawing in a breath, he sought to slow the racing of his heart, then faced her once more. Your words deserve punishment, but you have already suffered enough. I will spare you this once, Anahera. But be warned: you must learn to still still your tongue.

  The Anahera bowed her head in submission. That is kind of you, master.

  You may call me Adonis, he said dismissively.

  In another lifetime, you might have called me Nyriah. But now I am naught but a slave, and you my master, she finished there, but he sensed there was more beneath her words, a hint that she thought the same as Maisie, that he was as much a slave as the rest of them.

  Be gone, he snapped before he lashed out again. Return to your duties with the human. I have no more need for you, slave, he snarled.

  As you wish, master, Nyriah replied with a short bow. Turning, she vanished into the trees.

  And Adonis was left alone with the ghosts of his doubts.

  8

  The Prisoner

  Anger shone in the queen’s eyes as she watched the unconscious Cara. The moment stretched out, until it seemed certain she would strike again, would snuff out the life of the Goddess with a final blow. A cold smile spread across her lips as she looked to Erika.

  “I should kill her for that.” Lifting her boot, she placed it on the Anahera’s throat.

  Her eyes never left Erika and a shudder shook the Archivist. Still too exhausted to even pull herself up off the floor, she shook her head, eyes watering.

  “Please, don’t,” she rasped.

  The queen’s emerald gaze did not flicker, but she removed her boot.

  “I should have expected nothing less from my former prodigy,” she said finally.

  Leaning down, she gripped Cara by one of her wings. Without taking care for her feathers, she dragged the Goddess across the cabin. With a flick of her wrist that belied her impossible strength, she tossed the Anahera back into her cage. A clang sounded as the unconscious Goddess struck the bars and slumped to the metallic floor. Erika reached for her friend, but a boot came down on her hand, pinning her to the floor.

  “The game is at an end, Archivist,” Amina said softly. “All that remains is for you to concede.”

  Tears blurred Erika’s vision as she stared up at her former mentor, the woman she had aspired to become, whose approval she had sought so long to win.

  The same woman that had seen her father murdered, her kingdom cast down, her friend killed.

  Who had just defeated one of the Anahera in hand to hand combat.

  “How?” she rasped, still unable to comprehend the queen’s power.

  Laughter rumbled from Amina’s throat as she removed her boot. Pain shot up Erika’s arm as the blood rushed back to her fingers, and the barely mended bones began to ache. She made to sit up, but faster than thought the queen lashed out, her boot catching Erika in the side. Breath hissed between her teeth as the blow threw her onto her back.

  Gasping, unable to inhale through her winded lungs, Erika lay looking up at the queen’s rage.

  “Stupid bitch,” Amina spat. “When will you learn to admit your failures? You’re weak, Erika. Unworthy.” Shaking her head, she turned away. “You will never understand the burden I carry, the responsibility placed upon my shoulders.”

  Finally catching her breath, Erika managed a groan as she rolled onto her side. She did not speak or try to rise, fearing the queen’s wrath. Amina had not replaced the gauntlet on her hand, but it was obvious that the woman had never needed it, not for one so weak as Erika. What secret had the woman hidden all these years, to possess such power? Her vision swirling, Erika watched the queen cross to the mirror in the corner.

  Then lifting her arms, she pulled off her heavy chainmail vest. The rings chimed as they slipped over her shoulders, then struck the ground with a jingling thud. The woollen tunic she wore beneath followed, until all she wore were her fine undergarments.

  A hiss rasped from Erika’s throat when she saw the queen’s back. Suddenly blood was hammering in her ears and she found she could not look away, could not tear her gaze from Amina. Crouched on the floor, Erika stared at the scars the queen bore, at the twin circles of twisted tissue marking the skin either side of her spine.

  “Imagine my father’s joy, when my mother first revealed herself to him,” Amina murmured, turning so she could study her back in the mirror. “And imagine his shame, when years later she finally revealed the truth about her people.” Erika could see the queen’s rage in the mirror, furrowing the edges of her eyes, turning down her narrow lips. Abruptly, she spun and advanced on Erika. “He loved her. I know it, though I have no memory of the bitch.”

  Erika opened her mouth, then closed it again, unable to form a coherent thought—let alone words. How was this possible? A murmur came from behind her, as Cara stirred in the cage, and an icy suspicion filled Erika’s chest. Could it be?

  “Your mother?” she croaked.

  The queen looked away. “The creature seduced my father, convinced him he had been blessed by the Divine. Only during my birth did he learn the truth. With his own eyes, my father saw the demon within our so-called Gods. It broke his heart, but he knew he had to act, before that beast was unleashed upon our world.”

  “He killed her,” Erika whispered.

  “Eventually,” Amina replied with a sneer. “My father was prudent. He knew there were truths to be uncovered, secrets the false gods had hidden from us. With fifty of his most trusted men, he tricked my mother, imprisoned her deep beneath the citadel in a cell not even her kind could escape.” Amina shook her head. “The…creature admitted it all, by the end.”

  Erika shuddered at the cold way Amina talked about her own mother, but already the queen was speaking again.

  “They say she begged my father to spare me. Perhaps that is why I still live…why he laid this charge upon me, why he spent his final years preparing me to face the demons that hide in the mountains,”

  Erika swallowed, horror still clawing at her throat. “He…he took your wings.”

  “The mark of demons,” Amina spat, swinging on her. “My father hoped removing them would spare me their darkness, though he was prepared…” she trailed off, glaring down at Erika. “He took a terrible gamble, but he hoped I would have the strength to stand against them, to do what was necessary. Every moment of my life has been in preparation for these days.”

  “He created a monster,” Erika whispered, slumping to the floor. Shaking her head, she looked up at the woman. “But why would you kill my father, when he fought the Tangata?”

  A cold smile crossed Amina’s lips. “Your father served his purpose well,” she replied. “Peace had made humanity weak, unprepared for the coming threat. The Calafe king was a fiery man, quick to anger, easily manipulated. He began the war that would forge humanity anew, but I could not allow one so flawed to lead us. Beneath my leadership, the forces of the four kingdoms would have crushed the Tangatan threat,” she hesitated, eyes narrowing. “But King Nguyen ruined everything when he abandoned the alliance. I had to find other ways to bring about unity.” She gestured back in the direction of Gemaho, as though in explanation.

  Listening to Amina’s words, Erika felt something die within her, the last remnants of her defiance. Her eyes slid closed, despair withering her soul. All along, this woman had been a step ahead of the other monarchs. Amina was right. Erika could not defeat this woman. She was too weak, her strength sapped, her last hope lying crumpled in the cage, defeated.

  Abruptly, Erika’s world spun as the queen grasped her by the shirt and hauled her up. Crying out, she struggled against the queen’s impossible strength—u
ntil she glimpsed the fiery light of the gauntlet. Amina wore its silver threads on her hand again. Now its glow bathed the cabin, red and threatening, promising pain.

  Watching that light, Erika found herself unable to look away, to fight back, to do anything but slump in her captor’s grip and wait for the pain to find her, for the agony to sweep her mind away on a sea of madness…

  …but that pain did not come, as instead the queen suddenly turned from Erika, her eyes drawn to the wooden walls of the cabin. A frown creased the woman’s forehead.

  “What?” she murmured. Before Erika could understand what was happening, her eyes widened. “So they have come. It is earlier than I’d hoped, but I am not unprepared.”

  Erika cried out as the queen hurled her backwards. The back of the open cage brought her to an abrupt halt and she crumpled atop her friend, drawing a moan from Cara. Before Erika could even roll off the Goddess’s wings, the door to the cage slammed shut with a harsh click, the locking mechanism reengaging. Smouldering emerald eyes glared down at them.

  “I will leave you to contemplate your fate, Archivist. If you still have the strength to use your gauntlet, I dare you try and escape. You will not make it far.” She held up her fist, a flash of light sending tremors down Erika’s spine. “And I promise, the attempt will make your end all the longer.”

  With that she turned away, disappearing up the stairs to the upper deck of her ship.

  9

  The Sovereign

  Wind whipped at Lukys’s cheeks as the ocean surged around the ship, sending water hissing over the bow to strike at his flesh like knives. He ignored the stinging, eyes fixed on the distant walls that rose from the swirling blue.

  Mildeth.

  He could still recall his last journey to the city, a brief stop at the end of a short voyage across the narrow sea. The crossing had taken only hours and the Perfugian recruits had not lingered within the city before beginning their march south.