Dreams of Fury: Descendants of the Fall Book IV

by Hodges, Aaron

  This time, Lukys intended to make an extended visit.

  The ocean walls were taller than those in Ashura, raised in centuries past to defend against pirates that had once plagued the coast. The rise of Perfugia had put end to those outlaws, as their fleet hunted them down one by one. But the Flumeeren walls remained, and now they barred the soldiers of Perfugia from an easy victory.

  But Lukys had hopes it would not come to battle. Their intelligence was that Queen Amina remained in the south with the majority of the Flumeeren army. That suited Lukys’s purposes. Their own fleet followed a half-day behind with Nguyen, but if things went to plan, they would not need the king’s forces to take the city.

  It was a risk, sailing ahead with but one ship. If those in control of Mildeth suspected a trick, they might bar the gates. Forewarned, the city would mass defenders atop those giant walls, making it difficult for the invaders to gain a foothold. They might extend the siege for weeks—long enough for the queen to bring reinforcements.

  That was why Nguyen had wanted to attack immediately, using overwhelming force to the city fell quickly. But Lukys couldn’t bring himself to throw away the chance for a peaceful resolution.

  Afterall, the Flumeerens had no reason to believe Perfugia came for conquest. The Sovereigns rarely left the shores of the island, but it would not be the first time they had ventured to the mainland in times of strife. He remembered when they’d come to the assembly called by King Micah of Calafe…

  …Lukys shook his head, trying to separate himself from the consciousness of the Sovereigns who had come before, who had stood with the other kingdoms and set out to make war against the Tangata. Such a strange sensation, to know he had played no part in those events, and yet…

  …he could picture the noble Micah perfectly as he called on their aid, could recall his righteous fury as he demanded support of Queen Amina, as he swayed the young King Nguyen to his side.

  Lukys found himself turning in search of Sophia. Finding her alone at the railings, he wondered if she too had found that memory. How must it feel, to recall making a decision that had condemned so many of her people to death?

  Even for himself, that memory was a knife twisting in his gut. The Sovereigns before them had been so cold, so calculating in their decisions, the product of a hundred lifetimes placed into the minds of children. Their predecessors had never had a chance to live their own lives, to develop a consciousness beyond that which they inherited.

  Struggling with those memories, Lukys wondered whether he too would succumb to the tide, if one day he and Sophia become as those Sovereigns before them, removed from the lives of mere mortals, incapable of measuring the value of a single life.

  Would Lukys one day come to understand the logic of sending untrained recruits to die for the simple crime of failing an examination?

  The thought made him shiver, but shaking off such dark contemplations, he crossed to where Travis stood at the tiller. His friend wore a broad grin as he directed the ship towards the safety of the harbour, though he offered a quick salute at Lukys’s approach.

  “My Sovereign,” the man said in an overly dramatic fashion. “A million thanks for this ship you have provided. Much better than the last one.”

  Lukys snorted. “You mean the holey fishing boat you sailed across half an ocean?”

  “I remember her fondly,” Travis remarked, “a shame this journey is so short. I would have liked to see how this beauty did against a storm.”

  Lukys shuddered at the memory his words conjured. These he had lived himself. “Let’s just give thanks for the sunny skies,” he replied with feeling.

  Silence fell as they turned their eyes to the city. Two smaller vessels had detached themselves from the docks to escort them in, and Lukys couldn’t help but feel his tension growing.

  “I’ll leave you and Isabella onboard with a skeleton crew,” he said. “If we don’t return…”

  “Don’t be so grim, Lukys,” Travis said with a laugh. “It’s a few bureaucrats and those in their army who were too old or green to march south. After facing Tasha and her rebellion, the pair of you should have no problem with this lot.”

  Lukys sighed. He wished he could feel Travis’s confidence, that everything would work out as they intended. But whatever his jovial friend said, things had a habit of spiralling out of control when it came to Lukys’s plans. Ever since he’d first picked up a spear and lead them in defence of Fogmore’s walls all those months ago, nothing had gone as he’d intended.

  But he would press on regardless. There was no other choice.

  As the Flumeeren vessels pulled up on either side of their flag ship, Lukys was relieved to see only a few soldiers aboard. He hoped that meant the Flumeerens remained unaware of their alliance with Nguyen. Even so, he watched the gates of the city as they approached, seeking signs of some trap.

  But as they drifted into the port, no soldiers came rushing from the gates to attack them, nor arrows from the sky to strike them down, and Lukys finally let out a breath and moved to join Sophia at the bow. She wore a cloak with the hood pulled up, a veil drawn across her face. He quickly lowered his own to complete their illusion. The mystique of the Sovereigns was well known across the human kingdoms, and he prayed the Flumeerens would not question the concealment of their faces. One glimpse of Sophia’s grey eyes, and all his careful planning would fall apart.

  “Peace, My Lady,” Lukys said softly, reaching out to take Sophia’s hand. “I promise you. Now, let’s go trick some Flumeerens.”

  They were met on the docks by two dignitaries and their guards. Lukys had rarely seen such an odd assortment of nobles, although his experience with their kind was rather limited. An overly large man in a bright orange robe led the way, his face damp with sweat, as though their arrival had forced him to run through half the city to reach the docks in time. Behind him followed an elderly man with more wrinkles than even the most ancient of Lukys’s history professors back in his academy. Supported by a cane, the man arrived a few steps behind the big man.

  The two fell into a steep bow as Lukys and Sophia descended the ramp from their ship, and Lukys was struck by the difference a few weeks made. It seemed like only yesterday that their arrival on the shores of Perfugia had been met with armed soldiers and threats of violence.

  Then again, if the Flumeerens realised that a party of Tangata stood amongst them, it might yet come to violence. Afterall, this kingdom had been at the forefront of the war with Sophia’s people for ten long years.

  “Exalted Sovereigns!” the large man wheezed, clearly still trying to catch his breath. “Please, I am Wallace, steward of the royal citadel. I must apologise for my queen’s absence, but she is occupied by grave matters in the south. I welcome you to Mildeth in her absence.”

  “It is an honour as to witness your arrival on our humble shores, your dignities,” the elderly man added, his voice soft. “I am called Zayaan, chief advisor to the queen. As the good steward says, your visit is welcome—if unexpected. I fear you have come to Flumeer at a time of ill fortune.”

  “So we understand,” Lukys replied, doing his best to adopt the haughty tones of the nobility. “Some trouble with Gemaho?”

  “Yes,” Wallace replied, his eyes flickering to the open sea. “We are on high alert for the Gemaho King. His fleet has not been seen since the coward fled down the Illmoor, escaping our majesty’s righteous wrath. Your ships have not caught a glimpse of his presence, perhaps?”

  “I’m sure the noble Sovereigns of Perfugian would have alerted us immediately, had they encountered the coward king,” Zayaan interrupted, hands clasped at his back as he shot the steward an irritated look. “As I am sure they would prefer to discuss such delicate matters within the protection of the city walls.”

  Lukys blinked, taken by surprise at the speed at which they had been invited into Mildeth. Despite their outward confidence, it was clear both men were nervous about the prospect of an attack on the city by Nguyen. If only
knew how close they were to the truth. Thankfully though, Lukys’s veil concealed any emotion that might have given him away, and he only inclined his head in agreement.

  “We thank you for your hospitality, Zayaan,” he replied. “Shall we proceed to the citadel then?”

  The men nodded quickly, but as they made to turn away, something behind Lukys and Sophia caught the steward’s attention and he hesitated. Glancing over his shoulder, Lukys saw that Dale and the other royal guards were marching down the ramp onto the docks.

  “Oh!” Lukys turned back as Wallace let out an exclamation. “You brought soldiers I see. Excellent, excellent, every sword is welcome in the war against the traitor. Only…” he hesitated, glancing at the elderly Zayaan, then back to Lukys. “We have orders from our queen prohibiting the entry of foreign soldiers into the city, regardless of their allegiance.”

  Lukys’s heart began to race as he saw all his carefully laid plans unrolling before him. They had hoped to gather the leaders of the city in an assembly and take them hostage with their own guard, preventing them from commanding their forces to defend the city. But without Dale and the others, Lukys and Sophia would be alone in the citadel. They risked becoming hostages themselves, when Nguyen arrived with the bulk of their forces.

  “My dear steward,” Sophia spoke before Lukys could announce his displeasure. “It would be a difficult task for our soldiers to defend the city if they are forced to remain outside its walls.”

  Lukys glanced sharply at his partner, surprised not only by her words, but how they had been spoken. Gone was the singsong accent she’d adopted since receiving the gift of the Sovereigns—in its place was a perfect imitation of a Perfugian noble. For a moment, he was left questioning whether it was truly Sophia who spoke, or if another of those minds within had taken control.

  “I…” The steward rung his hands, clenching and unclenching his fists as sweat dripped from his brow. “I am sorry, good Sovereign, but I…perhaps a message...the queen.”

  “Surely your queen could not have thought to apply such restrictions to the Sovereigns of Perfugia, her last remaining ally in this terrible war? To think we would enter a foreign city alone…” Sophia shook her head, glancing to Lukys. “It seems we were wrong to think our aid would be welcomed, my dear. Perhaps we should return—”

  “No!” Wallace interrupted. “Please,” he continued, lowering his voice, “our forces are badly depleted here. Should Nguyen appear, we could not hold the walls against him for even a day.”

  Sophia said nothing, only stared at the man from beneath her veil, waiting…

  “I am we can come to some arrangement,” Zayaan said finally, shifting alongside the steward. He had named himself the queen’s advisor—perhaps that meant he had some authority to supersede her orders. “Perhaps we could permit…two of your guards to enter alongside your noble personage,” he offered finally.

  Lukys grimaced beneath his veil. Would that be enough? His plan didn’t require defeating the Flumeeren army, only that they took enough of their leaders hostage to prevent the organisation of the city’s defences. Would four of them be enough?

  It would have to be.

  “Very well.” He said abruptly. “Dale, Keria, you will accompany us into the city.” Their helmets would conceal Keria’s Tangatan eyes, and they would need every advantage they could get. He inclined his head to the pair of nobles. “If you would permit our remaining soldiers to disembark, perhaps they could take refreshments outside the walls. That way they might be of some aid outside the gates, should the Gemaho fleet happen to make an appearance.”

  Zayaan nodded his agreement, and Wallace sighed his relief. “Excellent, excellent,” he exclaimed, offering another short bow before spreading his hands in the direction of the city gates. “Then may I again bid you welcome to the glorious city of Mildeth.”

  Lukys sucked in a breath as he looked to the gates of the city, wondering whether they were making a terrible mistake. A glance back at their ship showed their soldiers beginning to disembark. He clenched his jaw, considering one last time the wisdom of this decision, before turning again to the two men. If things went wrong and this was all some elaborate trap, at least he would be able to communicate with the Tangata outside. That was an advantage the Flumeerens would not suspect.

  And so he exhaled, and nodded for Wallace to lead them into the stronghold of their enemy.

  10

  The Tangata

  The dark waters swirled as Adonis struck out through the racing currents. The river fought him, sought to drag him down into its murky depths, to steal away his warmth. But on the quiet spring night, it would not succeed.

  His heart pounded with the thrill of what was to come, his mind thrumming to the beat of war, the Voice of his mate. The time had finally come for them to strike against the true enemy, to destroy the humans who had dared venture so close to his people’s territory.

  The ships had anchored themselves only a few hundred yards from the shore. Truly, the humans had grown bold while the Tangata had been occupied in the south. Now they would suffer for their arrogance.

  The sight of the ships had driven Maya into a rage. Her hatred had swept over the ranks of her Tangata, their numbers swollen by the journey north, until all who stood upon the banks of the great river had yearned for the blood of their foes. With night already fallen, the distant lanterns burning upon the waters had become beacons, drawing the Tangata like moths to the flame.

  Adonis led the attack, an assault that would finally break the impasse upon the great river. United, the Tangata would sweep the humans back from their barricades, shatter their defences. Without the natural advantages of the river to bolster their defences, it would only be a matter of time before the armies of humanity crumbled, before their cities fell, before their so-called civilisation was reduced to ashes.

  His stomach churned strangely at that thought, and he found himself thinking back to New Nihelm, the human city the Tangata had conquered, that they had made their home. Though he loathed the creatures who had built the city, Adonis couldn’t deny there had been a beauty about the place. Those who had first raised the wooden buildings had long since passed, but their descendants continued their work, caring for the city, adding to it, until seceding generations had built something grand.

  Striking out through the racing waters, Adonis found himself wondering if one day his children might build such a city, if they might raise wonders from the stones of this earth…

  …or if they too would bring destruction.

  He shook off the thought as the shadow of a ship rose above him, the curve of its hull illuminated by a lantern hung from its rigging. Pausing, Adonis sought the Voices of his brethren, their rage, the thrill of their excitement for the battle to come. His own heart responded, his anger stirring, though he could not muster the same emotion he had felt at Maya’s side.

  A rope ran from the ship into the waters, taut with the weight of the anchor. Quiet now in the swirling currents, Adonis directed himself towards the rope, catching the coarse fibres in strong hands. As the others gathered nearby, he began to climb.

  The night greeted him with a cold breeze that cut through his thin clothing. Water poured from him to splash upon the river, loud enough that he feared the humans might hear. But the creatures’ senses were blessedly poor, and no shouts carried through the night to alert the sleeping soldiers.

  A smile touched Adonis’s lips as he continued his climb. He had missed the battle with the Anahera, being one of the few Maya had trusted to hunt the fledgelings. Now he once again had the honour of leading his people in battle. This was what he lived for, what he had been born to do. The third generation had been great warriors, the last of the true Tangata, possessed of the strength to run all day and battle all night.

  The stench of humanity struck Adonis as he pulled himself over the railings, the reek of dozens of bodies crushed together in filthy conditions. He couldn’t imagine how the creatures stood to live i
n such cramped confines. Even now he could hear them below, the whisper of voices, the snoring and the grunts. The ship must hold a hundred of the creatures, yet it could not be larger than the villa he had occupied in New Nihelm.

  Dropping to the deck of the ship, Adonis examined his surroundings, waiting for his brethren to join him. Most of the soldiers slept below and at first he saw no one. A small cabin was lit by a lantern at the stern, a pile of barrels stacked nearby. This was the largest of the dozen ships anchored on the river. Maisie had claimed it was the flag ship of the Flumeeren kingdom, that it might belong to the queen herself.

  That thought made Adonis’s heart clench with anticipation. If the Flumeeren Queen fell this night, their kingdom would not be long in following. That was the way of these creatures. Led by the right man or woman, they fought like demons, refusing to lay down and die when they had no right to fight on. But when that leader fell, their followers fell with them.

  Adonis tensed as he sensed movement, before a human armed with a spear emerged from behind the cabin. He must have been making his rounds, for he continued along the railings, eyes on the water below. Adonis watched the man, wondering if the humans were truly so arrogant to post only a single guard. Surely this close to Tangatan Territory, there must be another…

  The squeak of a board was the only warning Adonis had to his peril. Spinning, he flung up an arm as the soldier creeping up behind him thrust out with a spear. Adonis wore no armour and the blow would have driven the blade straight through his back—if not for his inhuman speed. Instead, he twisted, wrist slamming against the haft of the weapon and deflecting it into the wooden boards at his feet.

  The soldier’s eyes widened as his attack failed, and snarling Adonis leapt at him, seeking to silence the threat before it could alert others. But the soldier recovered his wits quickly, and a scream escaped his lips a second before Adonis tore out his throat.