He bared his teeth, wondering at the weapon the queen had unleashed. Was this the extent of the new power, or was there more? How long did the Tangata have before the humans created other such weapons? In just the last few months they had uncovered magic gauntlets and explosives. But over the last few years, even their basic war manoeuvres had advanced, as they learned to use their shields and spears as a unit against their stronger foes.
Maya was right. The humans had to be eliminated, before they grew to threaten the entire world.
Movement came from the waters of the river and Adonis was thankful to see that others had escaped the inferno. He could sense the fear of his brethren for what the enemy had revealed. The queen had been within their grasp, but in an instant she had turned the battle, decimating the Tangata and escaping into the night. It was a humiliating defeat for Adonis.
A soft pounding came to his mind as he climbed the bank, a tremor of rage, a warning of what awaited him. Reaching the borders of their camp, he moved towards the source, towards Maya’s fury. Her rage swept out across his people, stirring them from their shock, calling upon their emotions…
Calling them to war.
Adonis found his mate standing atop a small hill. Her golden hair shone in the light of the distant flames, her stomach straining against the simple Tangatan clothing she wore. Her grey eyes fixed upon the burning waters, she did not seem to notice his approach at first.
“You have failed me, my mate.”
Adonis flinched as Maya’s Voice roared into his mind, so loud he staggered back from her, his entire being trembling. Looking up at her, he tried to meet the grey eyes of his partner—and failed. Bowing his head, he tried to retreat—only for her to surge forward. Before he could resist, her hand caught him by the throat.
Maya bared her teeth as she hauled him into the air, and in that moment Adonis finally realised his peril—for in Maya’s eyes he saw not her usual calm, but the insanity he had glimpsed the first time he had woken her, the madness that had been passed down to her descendants, the rage of the Tangata.
Maya! he shrieked, reaching out with his mind in a desperate attempt to calm her. But he sensed only chaos from his partner now, only the terrible rage. Please! They are led by one of the Anahera!
Somehow, his words must have pierced the haze of her madness, for suddenly Maya blinked. The glow in her eyes softened, giving way to confusion. They narrowed then, and she lifted him higher, as though suspecting him not just of failure now, but treachery.
“What is this?” she hissed. “The Anahera are mine! There are none left to oppose me.”
One left their city long before our arrival! Adonis gasped desperately. The ex-mate of their leader. Nyriah believes the queen who leads the humans could be her daughter.
Impossible, Maya growled, and Adonis’s gasp was choked off as her fingers tightened. You lie to protect your own humiliation—
“No,” a voice interrupted.
Adonis’s heart twisted as he glimpsed movement from the corner of his eye, then Nyriah stepped into view. Before Maya could react, the Anahera surged forward, slamming into the Old One’s arm and tearing Adonis from her grip. He cried out as he crashed to the mud, while above Maya snarled, turning her fury against the Anaheran woman.
Adonis’s vision swam as he lay in the dirt, even as he struggled to catch glimpses of the battle between his partner and Nyriah. The Anahera’s black wings hung limp against her back, still heavy with water, and she clearly still suffered from the earlier explosion. Adonis tried to raise a hand, to call for them to stop, but he found Maya’s mind was closed to him now, her power focused on the Anahera that dared oppose her.
And with all the strength of an Old One, she struck the Anaheran woman down.
Crying out, Nyriah slammed into the ground with a thud, her wings fluttering weakly, trying uselessly to carry her to safety. Bones crunched as Maya her boot down on one, followed by a ghastly scream as Nyriah thrashed in the mud. The colour drained from the Anahera’s face as she struggled to rise, to flee, but there was no escaping the Old One’s wrath.
“I warned you what would happen if one of your kind betrayed me,” Maya hissed, boot grinding down, shattering the bones of Nyriah’s wing. Her Voice pounded against Adonis’s skull, rending at his mind, threatening to summon the madness within. “Tell me, Anahera, which of the fledgelings is yours, that I might exact a just punishment.”
“None!” Nyriah screamed. Tears appeared in her eyes as she slumped against the ground, suddenly limp. “None,” she whispered, scrunching her eyes closed. “If there is punishment to be had, let it fall on me.”
No, Adonis grated, struggling to rise, to force Maya to hear his words.
Her mind remained closed to him, but he saw her eyes flicker in his direction. A frown creased her forehead as she looked from him to the Anaheran woman.
“So this is the source of your treachery,” she whispered, tilting her head as she examined Nyriah. “I am disappointed, my mate.”
No! Adonis tried again. No, I told it true. There is a half-blood who leads the humans, one of Anaheran and human descent.
This time, finally, his words penetrated the barrier Maya had erected about her mind. Her frown deepened as she paused, seeming to consider his words.
“If this is true,” she said finally, “then the humans pose a greater danger than even I had thought. My plans must be advance immediately.”
Still crouched in the mud, Adonis bowed his head. As you will, my Matriarch, he murmured. My people will follow where you lead us.
Silent answered his words—followed by a mad laughter. His head jerked up at the sound, only to find Maya leering down at him.
“Your people?” she murmured. “Oh my dear, Adonis, after this failure, what makes you think yourself worthy to stand at my side, let alone lead this army?” She shook her head. “No, after this, all will know of your humiliation at the hands of the human. They will spurn your authority.” The smile faded from her lips as she turned to regard Nyriah, still lying motionless beneath her boot. “You are as worthless to me as an Anahera who refuses to bow.”
With those words, Maya surged forward. Adonis lifted a hand to cry out a warning—but he was far too slow. With all the strength of her kind, Maya brought her boot down on Nyriah’s neck.
A terrible crack echoed through the night.
Followed by a haunting silence.
And Nyriah lay still upon the mud.
No! A scream tore from Adonis as the rage finally split within him, shoving aside sanity, lifting him from the dirt to stand against his partner.
But she was still an Old One, and her power was greater than any he could imagine. With a backhanded blow, she sent Adonis crumbling back to the dirt. A groan hissed from his lips as his anger slipped away, despair replacing it, leaving him alone with the pain, with the guilt of another life lost.
I should kill you, Maya’s voice whispered in his mind, taunting, terrible. But your blood flows in the runts I carry. For that, I shall spare your life, though from this day forth your people will curse the name of the cowardly Adonis.
With that, the Old One turned and walked away.
17
The Fugitive
Crouching in the long grass, Erika eyed the horse standing several yards away. It hadn’t noticed her yet, though its soft snorts in the night revealed its nerves. Flames had scorched its saddle, probably the same ones still burning along the banks of the Illmoor behind her, but there was no sign of its rider.
She held her breath, watching the darkness, waiting to see if this was some trick, a trap set by Amina to ensnare her missing Archivist. It had to be. Surely it could not be that Erika’s luck had finally changed. Fate had long ago decided it would not favour her. She couldn’t believe she would be so fortunate now, to find a horse here on this burning night.
As the minutes passed and no movement came from the long grass, Erika finally allowed herself to hope. But still she waited, watching, s
hivering as the cold wind cut through her damp clothes. Though…at least she had not been burned in their flight.
Slumped beside her in the grass, the Goddess had not been so fortunate. Erika could not tell the extent of Cara’s burns until daylight, but half the Anahera’s hair had been devoured before they’d struck the water. Flames had kissed her auburn feathers too and Erika felt a pang of guilt—it had been Cara’s wings that had protected her from the fires, even as her friend suffered the brunt of the inferno.
The gauntlet still glinted on the Goddess’s arm, and Erika felt a stirring of jealousy, that another wielded her power. She shoved it down—they were both too exhausted to even consider its magic now. They needed to get clear of the river, where even now the distant screams of men told of the battle being waged between the Tangata and Amina’s land-based forces.
Whatever the outcome of that battle, the victor would soon turn north towards Mildeth. They needed to be long gone by then, and the horse was their only hope.
Swallowing the last of her doubts, Erika rose from the grass, taking care not to startle the gelding. Cara remained on the ground, the last of her strength consumed by their escape. She’d barely managed to pull them from the river before collapsing on the muddy shore.
The horse swung in Erika’s direction at her appearance, nickering nervously in the dark.
“Hey there, greatness,” she murmured, extending an empty hand, praying to the Gods she’d long ago discovered to be false that it would not flee. “Are you alone? Do you need a rider?”
The horse snickered again and for one horrible moment Erika thought it would bolt. Heart in her throat, she stood frozen in place as the gelding hooved the ground, but finally it seemed to settle. Abruptly it wandered forward and pressed its nose into her outstretched palm.
Erika stood, stunned, as the wet of its tongue licked her palm, blinking in the moonlight. Soft laughter came from behind her and she turned to see Cara sitting up, her amber eyes aglow in the moonlight.
“I didn’t know you were a horse whisperer,” she rasped, her voice sounding raw.
Erika found herself smiling back as she stroked the horse’s brow, then gently reached up and took its reins in hand. Stroking its neck, she leaned closer to inspect the animal. The metallic tang of blood touched her nostrils and her hand found a wet patch on the hard leather saddle. At least that explained what had become of the horse’s rider. She wondered if there would be anything left of Amina’s army come morning. Recalling the terrible eyes of the Old One, Erika wasn’t sure which side she preferred to win.
At least Amina fights for humanity, an inner voice reminded her.
“Erika,” Cara’s voice interrupted her thoughts. She turned to find the Goddess standing alongside her. “Are you okay?”
Erika nodded quickly, though as a distant scream carried to her ears, she knew it was a lie. Amina was the last hope humanity had of defeating the Old One and her Tangata. By fleeing this fight, was Erika placing her own life above her people yet again, against humanity itself? But no…surely Amina could not be the future for her people.
“Come on,” Erika said softly, pushing aside her doubts.
Even if she’d wanted to, Erika could do nothing for the queen now. Not unless…her eyes drifted to the gauntlet Cara wore. Wielding her Anaheran strength and the twin magics of their human ancestors…could Amina have won this night?
It was too late for second thoughts now. Turning to the horse, Erika swung herself into the saddle then reached down and offered Cara a hand. The Goddess hesitated, eyeing the horse, but Erika had seen her ride before and after the moment Cara accepted her aid. Warm hands wrapped around Erika’s waist as the Goddess clutched her tight, before she felt her friend’s head upon her shoulders.
“So tired,” a whisper came in her ears. “So hungry.”
Erika’s stomach rumbled in agreement but there was no time to check the saddlebags for food. That would have to wait. Starved as she was, first they needed to put distance between themselves and the battle.
“Hold on tight,” Erika said.
Then praying she still had the strength to carry them clear, she kicked the gelding into a canter.
* * *
Morning found the pair still a horseback, but as the sun’s glow turned the mountains a deep red, Erika knew they had best find shelter. She was swaying in the saddle by then, kept in place by sheer desperation and Cara’s arms around her waist. Responsibility for the young Goddess sat heavy on her shoulders. The knowledge that Cara was also at the end of her strength forced her on.
They had ridden north through a passageway that cut through the rolling hills of Flumeer, but now as the daylight lit the open ground, Erika began to search for shelter. There were few trees left in Flumeer these days, with most cut down to create the ships and forts that had guarded the Illmoor, while the rest had been burned for farmland.
There were no farmers now though. Word of the armies amassing to the south must have driven them out, sending them north to shelter behind city walls. Directing their gelding along a goat track leading up into the hills, Erika wondered who which would come for them. Would it be Amina, with her terrible gauntlet? Or would it be the Old One with those terrible grey eyes?
A shiver passed down Erika’s spine at the thought of Tangata stalking their trail, following their scent from the waters of the Illmoor.
No, better that Amina emerged victorious. At least they might have a chance to escape human pursuers.
Erika drew her horse to a stop before the remnant of forest nestled in a small vale. Its steep slopes must have made it unsuitable for livestock, for these were the only trees she could see for miles. Their shelter would conceal them from sight of their pursuers, whether they came by land or air…
…but the trees would also be an obvious hiding place. Her eyes slid closed, exhaustion weighing heavy on her shoulders, but Erika’s instincts whispered that they could not stop here. It would be the first place their hunters looked.
Skirting the treeline, she led the horse up towards the crest of the hill. There Erika took stock of their surroundings. Pasture and young crops of corn stretched out for miles around them, while flocks of sheep and cattle moved in the distance. She wondered what would become of all this should the farmers not return in time for the harvest. Did the Tangata know how to harvest crops, or care for livestock?
Her eyes caught on a distant shadow—a farmhouse, she thought by the size of it. The hour was still early and a chill breeze blew off the snow-capped peaks to the east, but there was no sign of smoke around the chimney. Praying that meant it had been abandoned, she kicked the gelding into a trot.
A half hour later, Erika could hardly bring herself to believe they were safe within stone walls. She’d taken the time to lead the gelding into a small stall attached to the house, then had half-carried, half-dragged Cara inside. Still in a daze and murmuring softly with her eyes closed, the Goddess had hardly stirred. She was far heavier than she looked though, and it had taken the last of Erika’s strength to lower the young Anahera onto the down bed in the corner of the great chamber that was the interior of the farmhouse.
Darkness swirled at the edges of her vision and she could feel unconsciousness calling, but even then, Erika knew she could not rest. Their enemies might come for them while they were unawares, and besides, her hunger had only grown more urgent through the night, until it felt as though her insides were consuming themselves in their quest for sustenance.
Returning to the horse, she found some salted beef and dried fish, even some cheese wrapped in a wax clothe in the saddlebags. A quick scout about the farmhouse revealed an abandoned hen coop, its door left open by the departed farmers. The birds squawked and fled at her appearance, already feral with the absence of their owners, but inside she found several eggs. There was also an overgrown vegetable patch out back.
Returning to the house, Erika lay her prizes on the kitchen bench, her stomach rumbling with renewed desperation.
There was enough to cook a stew or broth, but the smoke from a fire would be seen for miles during the day. If only a storm would sweep down from the mountains, she might risk a flame. The owners had even left a stack of wood in the hearth for when they returned.
Perhaps when night fell, if they were not discovered before then. In the meantime, she grabbed a piece of the salted beef and took a bite—and groaned as flavour filled her mouth. Her stomach rumbled in anticipation, but she chewed slowly, aware that after so long without eating she didn’t want to overdo it. Finally she wandered to the feathered bed where she had lain her friend.
Cara still slept, though it was a fitful rest, her breath coming in ragged gasps, as though even in her dreams the demons pursued her still. Her feathers stood on end and Erika shivered as the light coming through the shuttered windows revealed the damage the flames had done. Her wings, so recently healed from their crash in the mountains, had been blacked along their edges, the auburn feathers scorched by the flames. There was a smell about her too, the stench of burnt hair, though at least her skin had been spared the worst of the flames.
Another moan came from the Goddess and she twisted violently atop the covers. Erika swallowed the last of her scant meal, clenching and unclenching her fists. It pained her to see Cara this way, and without thinking she climbed onto the bed. Taking the cover Cara had kicked off, she drew it over them both, then curled up beside the young Anahera, drawing her head to her chest, holding her tight. For a while, the Goddess lay tense in her arms, breath still coming in ragged gasps, hissing between clenched teeth.
After a time though, the tension leached from Cara’s muscles and her breathing eased, her groans and twitching easing. Erika closed her eyes, still holding Cara safe in her arms. The fiery warmth of the Goddess soon drove back the chill of the day, the woollen covers weighing down on them both. She listened with relief as her friend’s breathing grew regular. At least she could do this for the Goddess, for her friend. After all Cara had done for her, saving her, protecting her, this was the least Erika could do.
Dreams of Fury: Descendants of the Fall Book IV Page 11
