Dreams of Fury: Descendants of the Fall Book IV

by Hodges, Aaron

  Adonis stilled as the body struck the deck, fists clenched, praying that none had heard the cry, that the foolish humans would put it down to a trick of the wind, of the river…

  Whoooorl!

  Adonis cursed as a bugle horn came from the other side of the ship, the second soldier sounding the alarm. The note rose above the silence of the night, carrying to the soldiers below—and the other ships as well—alerting them to the danger that stalked them this night.

  But it alerted the Tangata too, and the battlecry of Adonis’s brethren rang out across the river.

  Adonis’s body reacted before his mind. Surging across the deck, he caught the human before it could blow another warning note. The horn struck the deck with a heavy thump as Adonis sucked in a breath, fighting off the call of the Tangatan rage. He could not afford the madness now, not if he was to lead his people.

  Movement came from nearby, followed by shouts and a sharp twang as something fired in the darkness. Adonis spun and something hissed through the space he had occupied. A clacking sound followed that Adonis recognised as the reloading of a human crossbow.

  Roaring, he charged towards the noise. From behind, he sensed his brethren as the first reached the top of the rope. Adonis need only keep the enemy occupied a few moments longer.

  The human with the crossbow saw him coming and tossed weapon aside, its wire still only half loaded. He fumbled for his spear, but Adonis caught the wooden haft before the man could bring it to bear. Fear showed in the human’s eyes as Adonis tore the weapon from his hands, but to his credit, the man did not flee. He was reaching for the dagger on his belt when Adonis’s fist struck his skull. Despite the metal helmet worn by the human, he dropped without a sound, and Adonis turned in search of his next victim.

  The first of his brethren had reached the deck now, but as Adonis watched, a door at the rear of ship burst open and humans half-dressed in armour poured from the darkness below. In moments, a dozen of the creatures stood against him, weapons held high, dull eyes scanning the darkness for hint of the creatures that had come upon them. The few lanterns burning were not enough for the pitiful humans to spy the Tangata in the shadows. Adonis might have laughed.

  Instead he roared, and charged the group of humans.

  The soldiers reacted instantly, swinging towards the sound. A dozen was too many for Adonis, even in the dark, but his charge drew their attention away from where his brethren still emerged from the dark waters.

  Then Adonis was amongst them, slicing through their ranks like a dagger, fists flashing, leaping and dancing between their blows, striking soft flesh and hard steel wherever his foes lowered their guards. Cries of pain filled the night and in those first seconds several of the humans crumpled, clutching at broken ribs or shattered kneecaps.

  Still roaring, Adonis ducked and weaved, narrowly avoiding the desperate thrusts of steel weapons. The human’s found their spears almost useless in such close proximity, and several of the more intelligent tossed the weapons aside and drew short swords.

  It was one these that spilt the first of Adonis’s blood that night. He cursed as the blade sliced his cheek and leapt back, twisting away from an awkward spear thrust in the process. Heart racing, he felt some of the rage leave him, reason returning. The human’s blow had been just inches from his throat. It had almost ended him, snuffed out his life and left his children alone, with only Maya to raise them.

  For some reason, that thought chilled Adonis and he took another step back from the humans, allowing them a moment to regroup—and for his brethren to finally join the battle. Their silent cries echoed through the night, unheard by the humans, so that they did not turn as the Tangata charged.

  Adonis smiled, satisfied as his brethren fell upon the humans from behind. Of the fourth and fifth generations, human bones still shattered beneath their blows. Despite their resilience until now, the humans crumped before the surprise attack. Screams rent the night as they scattered—and one by one were hunted down by their Tangatan foes.

  His victory achieved, Adonis was about to join in the hunt, when a figure stepped from the nearby cabin. Garbed all in steel and wearing a helmet engraved with a golden crown, the figure raised a sword high—and charged a group of Tangata. Distracted by the human soldier they had been tormenting, Adonis’s brethren scattered at the sudden assault, though not before one had fallen to the newcomer’s blade. Spinning to face the others Tangata, the human raised their blade to the sky.

  “Soldiers of Flumeer!” The woman’s voice lifted above the chaos, calm, determined. “To me!”

  11

  The Prisoner

  Erika sat up in the cage as a scream carried down from above. Her vision swam at the sudden movement and she would have thrown up, if there had been anything left in her stomach. The long days without food had more than taken their toll and now she barely had the strength to keep her eyes open. How she wished that they’d never left the mountains. Maybe she and Cara might have found peace somewhere amidst the endless peaks, far from the queen’s darkness, from the rage of the Old One and her Tangata.

  But no, instead Erika had brought them to a land torn by war, following the futile hope she might help her people, might find a way to save the very kingdom that had turned its back on her as a child.

  She had doomed not only herself, but Cara too.

  Erika shook herself as another scream came from the ceiling, followed by the ring of weapons. Erika struggled to concentrate through her exhaustion. The ship was under attack, but who in the kingdoms of humanity still had the power to threaten the Flumeerens? Had King Nguyen escaped after all?

  A chill touched Erika as she recalled the queen’s words.

  So they have come. It is earlier than I’d hoped, but I am not unprepared.

  No, not the Gemaho at all. The Old One and her Tangata. Erika must have been locked in the hold longer than she’d imagined, if the creatures were already here, though it was a shorter route to cut through the fallen lands of the Calafe than the roundabout way she and Cara had taken through Gemaho.

  Her stomach twisted at the memory of the Old One, at how the Anahera had bowed to her will, the way she had looked at Erika. The creature loathed humanity above all else. No matter what preparations Amina had made, whatever strength she had inherited from her mother, the queen could not possibly be prepared for that.

  Another scream sounded, high pitched and unending, as of some soldier horribly disfigured. Heart pounding in her chest, Erika turned to Cara. Somehow, they had to escape this cage. She didn’t want to be trapped here when the Old One finally came.

  “Cara, she’s here, isn’t she? The Old One?”

  The young Goddess did not stir, only sat with her knees drawn up to her chest, eyes on the steel floor of the cage. Erika swallowed, then gently reached out and clutched Cara’s shoulder.

  “Cara, come on, I need you. We have to find a way out of here.”

  Still Cara did not stir and Erika feared she’d lost her friend to madness. But then the Anahera’s head lifted, her amber eyes meeting Erika’s. A tear streaked her cheek as she blinked and began to shake.

  “I never gave up,” she croaked. “Never stopped hoping she was out there somewhere. That one day I’d be flying over the plains, and she would find me.”

  Another tremor shook the Goddess. The tears were flowing freely now. Grief contorted her face and Erika felt her friend was about to shatter, to crumble beneath the weight of her pain. But Erika said nothing, only crouched beside her, waiting.

  “After all these years of searching…” Cara’s voice broke as words gave way to sobs.

  Despite their danger, despite the screams of dying men from above, Erika hugged her friend tight. What else could she do? At the end of her strength, Erika could no more will the cage away than she could defeat the queen in single combat.

  Amina, the queen of Flumeer. And Cara’s half-sister.

  “She abandoned me.” It was a moment before Erika heard the words in
Cara’s sobs. Suddenly the Goddess stilled. “Left me all alone with him. All so she could be with one of you.” She looked up then, and Erika could see the rage in her eyes now, fed by the depth of her grief. “And what did it get her in the end? Only more pain, only death. Maybe my father was right to hate your kind.”

  Erika swallowed, but she could find no words to reply, no argument for the grieving young woman beside her. It was difficult sometimes, to recall that Cara was in fact fifty years of age. Due to the slow development of the Anahera, she appeared no older than a teenager. Human blood from Amina’s father must have aged the queen faster than her sister, yet looking at the Goddess now, Erika finally saw the similarities—the sharp cheekbones and scarlet shades of their hair, the large eyes that seemed to pierce you to the soul.

  “I don’t know what to say, Cara,” Erika said at least, her own vision blurring, though she kept the tears from falling. “It’s a cruel place, this world our ancestors left for us. Humanity is what the fires of the Fall made us—harsh and merciless. I know it cannot bring your mother back, but I am sorry for what we did to her.”

  The Goddess looked away at that, though every so often a tremor would shake her wings, the feathers standing on end. The sounds of battle were growing louder now, fiercer. Erika glanced at Cara, but there was no signs of life in the Goddess. The anger had died from her eyes, leaving only despair, only the darkness of the defeated.

  She clenched her fist, wishing for the strength to summon the magic. She only achieved another bout of dizziness. A gasp slipped from her lips as she slid sideways, slumping against the bars. Cara frowned as she watched her, seeming confused.

  “Why are you still fighting?” she said, her voice almost angry, as though Erika’s lack of despair were an insult to her. “It’s over, Erika. The Old One and her Tangata are here, some of my people too. I can hear their Voices--they’re all around us. Not even my bitch-sister can fight them. It’s over. Maya has won.”

  “No,” Erika hissed, forcing herself to sit up. “No, I won’t let them.” She gripped Cara by the shoulder and forced the Goddess to look at her. “I’m sorry about your mother, Cara. I know what it feels to lose a parent to evil. But you’re not alone.”

  “Of course I’m alone,” Cara snapped, tearing herself from Erika. “My brother, my mother, my father, they’re all dead now. My own people bow to the darkness of the Old One. I’m the only one left.”

  “No,” Erika hissed. Gently she cupped Cara by the cheek. “No,” she repeated, softly this time, looking into Cara’s amber eyes. “You still have me, Cara, always. We’re family now, you and I.” Gently she pressed her forehead to the Goddess’s. “I won’t let her hurt you anymore. I won’t let them take you.”

  She thought Cara would pull away, but after a moment the Goddess’s eyes slid closed and a sob tore from the young girl. Silently she shook her head, fingers pulling at her torn leggings.

  “I don’t know what I’m doing, Erika,” she croaked. “It’s all wrong, all of this, what Father did for me, what happened to Hugo…there was so much blood.” She was sobbing now, hugging Erika tight, clutching at her back. “I should have done something else, should have been able to save him. He was so young…never had a life…and now mother…I can’t…” Her words became unintelligible as she tumbled from one loss to another.

  Erika squeezed her tight then drew back, carefully wiping the tears from the Goddess’s cheeks. Cara fell silent, blinking at Erika in the gloom of the cabin, amber eyes reflecting the fading candlelight.

  “You did your best, Cara,” she said softly, “but no one could have saved Hugo. You said so yourself—he was under Maya’s control. She’s too strong for any one of your people. And your father chose to save you, to do right by his daughter. You cannot blame yourself for the choices of others. All you can do is honour their sacrifice.”

  The tears still slid down Cara’s face as she hiccupped softly, shivering in the confines of their cage, feathers trembling. But finally she closed her eyes and nodded. Angrily she wiped away the last of her tears, then rose abruptly, eyes on the ceiling.

  “Maya’s close,” she said sharply. “There isn’t much—”

  Boom!

  12

  The Sovereign

  Standing at a window looking out over the harbour, Lukys struggled to contain the pounding in his chest. At any moment, he expected the alarm to sound, for soldiers to come rushing into the room and take them hostage, or worse. Wallace and Zayaan sat around a table behind him with a growing number of nobles, but the most important of their number had yet to join them—the officer in charge of their defences.

  “This has been the strangest of times,” Wallace was saying to Sophia who sat with them at the table. “Hidden Gods and traitorous kings and all.”

  He doesn’t know the half of it, Lukys sent the silent words to his partner, and sensed ripple of her mirth in response.

  Earlier, Wallace and Zayaan had led them through the streets of Mildeth. The queen might have left with most of their army, but Lukys couldn’t help but notice the frosty manner of the populace, the suspicious glances they cast at the strange group moving through their midst. Most relaxed when they noticed Zayaan, but Lukys still sensed their distrust in the sickly green of their aura.

  Think of their reception, Lukys couldn’t help but question his plan, whether the four of them would be enough. Even if they took hostage the members of this room, would the people on the streets submit willingly? Or would they rise up against the invaders?

  “A strange time indeed,” he said finally, moving from the window to join those gathered at the table. “Though I am glad to find Flumeeren hospitality has not changed.”

  Taking the seat alongside his partner, he allowed his eyes to roam over the gathering. Wallace and Zayaan had been joined by half-a-dozen others, minor officers and nobles from the south that had fled the Tangatan threat. Most of those with higher ranks would have marched with the queen, but Amina must have trusted at least a few of these men and women, to have left them in command of her capital.

  “Indeed,” Zayaan replied. “Though I admit, I had not thought them strange enough to merit your noble presence in our city, Sovereigns.”

  Lukys narrowed his eyes as the queen’s advisor spoke, sensing the man’s suspicion. Zayaan had seated at Lukys’s side, while Wallace took the spare seat alongside Sophia. It was clear these two carried some measure of authority over the others, though neither were military men. He glanced at the door, but there was still no sign of the officer in command of the city guard.

  “It has been some time, has it not, since your last visit?” Zayaan continued.

  Sensing the question in the man’s words, Lukys allowed himself a smile beneath the veil. It took a moment to find the memory he needed—those more recent seemed easier to uncover.

  “Ten years,” he agreed, “Not since the gathering of kings have we stepped foot on the mainland.”

  Zayaan smiled at that. “I must say, I find your attire…puzzling. The veils must be quite the advantage amongst negotiations. I can hardly tell which of you is the man and which the woman, let alone the thoughts behind your words.”

  Sophia and Lukys turned their eyes upon the man. Though neither spoke, Lukys could sense his partner’s unease. They both recalled the near disaster of their arrival in Perfugia, when Tasha had torn the blindfold from Sophia’s eyes, revealing her true lineage.

  Thankfully, Wallace came to their rescue, as his face grew red and he spluttered something unintelligible at the elderly Zayaan.

  “My apologies!” he said finally, turning to them, “I am sure Zayaan meant no offence with his words.”

  Lukys proffered an exaggerated sigh beneath his veil. “It is a tradition of our people, you understand,” he replied. “Only our own—and royalty, of course—may look upon the likeness of the Sovereigns.”

  That was only partly true. The memories he held recalled many occasions when the Sovereigns had revealed themselve
s, but there was no need to make exceptions here. At least, not yet. Not until all had gathered in place.

  “Fear not, good Sovereigns, we in Flumeer respect the traditions of the ancients,” Wallace proclaimed, flashing Zayaan a glare as he spoke. “Why, the good queen has often remarked to me the loyalty of your kingdom. Perfugia has never missed a tribute to the alliance.”

  Lukys’s heart twisted at the man’s words. He knew all too well what Wallace was referring too—the recruits like Lukys that Perfugia had sent each year to fight on the frontline. Only…

  “It is a welcome arrangement for us all,” Lukys forced out the words, though they made his intestines squirm. “Your generals receive more fodder to slow the Tangatan advance, and we…rid ourselves of wasted mouths.”

  Lukys, you know that is not true, Sophia’s concern sounded in his mind, a wave a warmth accompanying her reassurance.

  He smiled beneath his veil and sent back his silent agreement. Outwardly, he said nothing, though he saw shock in the expressions of some around the table.

  “You are surprised at our candour,” Sophia offered, picking up the conversation. “We believe one should always talk openly amongst allies—least distrust be allowed to enter relations.” She raised her drink to offer a toast.

  Lukys raised an eyebrow at her words, but the others were already following Sophia’s lead and raising their cups to toast her back. With a sigh he did the same, though it was difficult to pass the cup of liquor beneath his veil.

  But as he sipped the burning whiskey, an idea came to him. Looking at those seated around the table, he realised they didn’t seem so different from the Flumeerens he’d once fought with in Fogmore. Richer, certainly, but not the greedy nobles he had expected of those who followed Amina. Rather, their loyalty seemed…misdirected, abused by a woman who had abandoned them here, helpless to defend themselves against the weakest of enemies. No wonder they had welcomed their arrival so readily.