Then strong hands were wrapping around her, holding her close. A sob burst from Erika’s lips as she turned to Cara, the pressure within bursting, and all her pain and despair and anger came gushing out. Gasping, she buried her head in the Goddess’s shoulder.
“Whatdamigoingtodo?” The words rushed from her between sobs. Fists clenched, she clutched Cara as though she were a true Goddess, as though she possessed the power to lift her burden, to free her from their danger.
“You’ll find a way, Erika,” Cara’s whisper came through the darkness. “I believe in you.”
A hiccup burst from Erika’s lips as she finally pulled away, eyes still hot with tears, cheeks wet. The Goddess offered a hesitant smile as they drew apart.
“What if I can’t?” Erika whispered. “What if its beyond me?”
“You will,” Cara replied firmly. “It’s what makes you special, what made me—” she cut off abruptly, and it seemed her face brightened in the flickering firelight.
Erika frowned. “What?”
The Anahera shook her head, her feathers rustling as she turned towards the fire. Silence fell, before Cara breached it with a new topic. “Maybe it was because of how different you all are from us,” she murmured.
“Huh?” Erika asked, her confusion deepening at the Goddess’s cryptic speech.
“That made my mother fall in love with your people, with the queen’s father.”
“Oh…” Erika exhaled. She couldn’t help but shudder at the memory of Amina’s naked back, the terrible scars left from her amputated wings. “What are you saying?” she added at last.
“There is so much life in humanity,” Cara said, eyes still on the flames. “The clothing, the art, the music, in everything you do. It’s like you fit a dozen of our lifespans into every year of your own existence, every moment. Each of you are so different, so unique, even the Tangata must wonder at it.” She looked up, eyes locking with Erika’s. “When I first saw you, I thought you must have been from another species to the others. From Romaine and Lukys and the Perfugians. They were warriors, rugged and unkept, their hair and beards so tangled and…filthy. The other villagers in that place too.”
She drew in a breath. “Then you appeared. Dressed in silk, with your hair kept long, tied back for riding, clean and tidy and elegant…I was entranced.”
Erika felt her cheeks grew warm and she shook her head. “I was an arrogant fool,” she said, recalling the day she’d arrived in Fogmore. “I thought I was better than everyone in that place, even Romaine, a man with ten times my courage.”
“A man who believed in you,” Erika insisted. “You might not be a warrior, but you have just as much courage as Romaine. You’ve proven it every day since we stepped into my mountains, in the way you faced my father and the Anahera, the way you stood against the Old One and her Tangata. Even on the ship with Amina. You are elegant and glorious and strong, Erika, everything your people need.”
“My people are dead,” Erika whispered. “I failed them long ago.”
“Your people are every human who does not wish to be enslaved by Maya or my sister, every man and woman who resists their tyranny. Forget your petty kingdoms—they don’t matter, they have never mattered. Even the differences between human and Tangata and Anahera are nothing. In this world, there are only the free, and the enslaved now, Erika.”
Swallowing, Erika looked at the Goddess, wondering at the change in her friend. Just a short time ago, Cara had been in despair, defeated by her sister, crushed by the death of her brother and father, the enslavement of her people. Something had given her hope, but surely it could not have been Erika?
She shivered, unable to meet the Anahera’s eyes. Looking at her hands again, she clenched her fists, watched the shimmer that lit the gauntlet. It was the artefact’s magic that had gotten her this far, that allowed her to do the impossible things Cara spoke of. She was no leader, no princess as she had once claimed to Romaine. That was why he’d followed her. It was not her own reputation, but her dead father the king that Romaine had believed in. Her father had led Calafe to glory, before betrayal had cast him down.
She could not be that leader, could she?
A shiver shook Erika as she recalled the vow she had sworn the day Romaine had fallen. She had promised to return to Flumeer and help her people, the Calafe refugees that had been condemned by the queen’s cruelty. An impossible task, surely, and yet…
…on her last visit to Mildeth, there had been thousands camped outside the city walls. Her people all, the last remnants of the fallen Calafe. Impoverished and homeless they might be, but they were Calafe still, proud and unbroken, trained as youth to survive, to fend for themselves, even to wield a blade. Could they form the beginnings of a resistance against the mad queen?
A shiver ran down Erika’s spine as she stood suddenly, looking at Cara. A grin spread across the Anahera’s lips as she rose beside her.
“You have a plan?”
Erika swallowed. “The beginnings of one.”
20
The Sovereign
Lukys paced the floor of the royal chamber, his footsteps echoing up through the overlooking rows of empty chairs. The nobles of Mildeth had almost to a man marched south with the queen, while those who remained had been imprisoned once the Perfugian forces had entered the citadel. Zayaan had been helpful in identifying those likely to keep their loyalty to Amina, and those who might be persuaded to the Perfugian cause.
For now though, Lukys had other concerns on his mind.
How many days will it take for your people to reach the city? he asked, glancing at Sophia.
She stood fixed in place while he paced, but Lukys could sense the same fear within her, the same doubts. Everything had changed with the news from the south, and now it seemed the weight of the world fell upon their shoulders. Neither had been prepared for such a burden, not yet. Abruptly he crossed to where Sophia waited and drew her into a hug.
A shudder wracked them as they stood alone on the floor of the giant chamber. Less than a week had passed since their bloodless conquest of the city, and they’d hardly had a moment of peace since. Their time had been consumed organising the city’s defences, with their first act inviting the Calafe refugees into the city.
Zayaan had argued against it, claiming the presence of the so-called barbarians would disturb the fragile peace in Mildeth and turn the people against them, but Lukys had not forgotten his old mentor Romaine. The last warrior of the Calafe had been the only who had believed in him back in Fogmore. No one had heard a word of Romaine in weeks, but Lukys would not abandon the man’s people when the Tangata came.
And come they would.
Word had reached the city in the night, carried on the lips of the first refugees—the Tangata had crossed the Illmoor. Amina’s forces had waged a great battle for the river, but in the end her fleet had been destroyed and they had been forced to retreat. General Curtis, the man who had commanded the southern defensive for nigh on a decade, was said to have fallen defending the walls of Fogmore, and a sizeable chunk of the Flumeeren army with him.
For the first time in living memory, the Tangata had gained a foothold north of the Illmoor. And it did not look like they would stop there.
Somehow, Queen Amina had survived the conflict. Riding a white stallion, she had led a charge against the enemy in a replica of her efforts so many years before. This time though, the charge had failed, faltering as the winged Anahera came against her forces. Witnessing the Gods themselves turn against humanity had sown chaos amongst the Flumeeren ranks, and the last resistance had finally crumbled, turning the battle into a full-blown rout.
The news of the Gods betrayal had turned Lukys’s blood cold, and he could feel a memory stirring within, a whisper of a truth long forgotten. The last Sovereign had warned them not to trust the Anahera, that they had failed humanity once before, but the memory of that failure still escaped him.
Days. No longer.
He shivered as Soph
ia finally responded to his question. Meeting her gaze, he saw the pain shining in her grey eyes and hugged her tighter, wishing he could make this all easier, that he had the answers. But they possessed the same memories, the same knowledge and power. They both knew what marched towards them, the death that followed in the footsteps of the Old Ones.
We will find a way, was all he said, though he knew Sophia saw through his words. Their minds grew closer each day, and he could feel her thoughts fluttering against his own. What if…we tried to speak with them, with your people?
Sophia let out a sigh as they drew apart. If even the Anahera have bowed to Maya… She shook her head. What chance do my brothers and sisters have against the power of her Voice? She hesitated, and he saw her doubt. We are not a people used to questioning, Lukys. It is a part of our fabric, obedience, subservience to our Matriarch, to the most powerful amongst that.
Lukys shivered, reaching out to place a finger beneath her chin, to lift her chin so that they stood eye to eye.
“I don’t believe that,” he whispered, gently kissing her lips. “If that were true, you and Keria and the others would have killed us back in New Nihelm, when Adonis Commanded it of you. If that were true, you would not be with me now, doing everything in your power to stop her.”
“Maybe,” Sophia replied. She looked across the debating chamber towards the south, as though her Tangatan eyes might pierce the stone and distance, might allow her to look upon the darkness that came for them. “Maybe that is what we had been striving for, what our Matriarch wanted for us—the freedom to choose our own fate. But…” She sighed. “Lukys, I fear she died too soon. This Old One, she cares not for the weak, whether Tangata or human. She wants only to dominate.”
Lukys sighed, reaching out to squeeze her fingers. “We will find a way to free them.”
“We’d better,” a new voice spoke from the side of the chamber. They looked around as Nguyen entered. Isabella and Travis followed, looking apologetic for the interruption, but Lukys knew the Gemaho king was a difficult man to deny. “If you can’t find a way to bring at least some of your brothers and sisters to our side, this war will be over before it even begins.”
“Thanks, Nguyen,” Sophia said, adapting a wry tone. Lukys was impressed by how quickly she had learned to adjust to the inflections of spoken voice. “As though the fate of my own people wasn’t enough pressure, let’s just add humanity to the burden as well.”
The king chuckled and his gaze lifted to the rows of seats that ringed the chamber floor, a hundred in the first tier, another two hundred in the second for minor nobles. The only piece of furniture on the floor of the chamber was a golden throne. Zayaan had explained how the queen held her court here, seated beneath the gaze of her nobles, allowing them to participate in debates over the kingdom’s future, as well as witness her judgement against those brought before the throne.
The size of the chamber was but a fraction of the Sovereign amphitheatre back in Ashura, but that theatre had been kept empty, all semblance of the public excluded from the presence of their rulers. They intended to do away with that tradition on their return. Perhaps they would draw on the queen’s custom, though with true citizens of Perfugia, rather than a few privileged nobles.
A part of him cried out against that idea, a dozen minds deep within that resisted such an indulgence of the public, but he pushed them aside. They were the voices of the past—it was time Perfugia had new ideas.
First though, they had to survive. He looked again at Nguyen, who had seated himself in the golden throne and now lounged with his legs draped over one of the arms.
Lukys raised an eyebrow. “How do you think Amina would react, knowing you sat in her chair?”
“It’s our chair now,” the king replied with a wave of his hand. “Amina will behave, once she realises we have her city. She knows she cannot face the Old One alone. If she wants to have any chance of survival, she will have to accede to our conditions.”
Lukys frowned at that. “You would let her through the gates?”
The king shrugged. “I don’t see any alternatives.”
Lukys sensed a stirring of anger as Sophia stepped forward, eyes burning. “That woman is responsible for the genocide of my people,” she hissed. “For starting a war that has slain thousands on either side. You would greet her as a friend?”
“I would greet her as the enemy of my enemy,” Nguyen said softly, unflinching from the rage in Sophia’s eyes. He grimaced, glancing around the room. “This is her city, Sophia. She will know best how to defend it. And she still has an army. Better them on our side, rather than fighting against us.” He sighed. “I don’t like it any more than you do, believe me. But it is as I said back in Perfugia—a ruler must set aside their own principles and do what is best for their people. Justice will come for Amina one day. For now, we must stand together, or risk annihilation.”
Sophia said nothing at that, only stared the king down, her aura a burning red. But it was clear that Nguyen had won the argument. Lukys shivered. The man was right. Whatever her crimes, they needed Amina now, needed her army. Though, he feared she would sooner see them all dead than stand alongside them.
Is there not another way? A new voice said, and Lukys looked around at Isabella. The Tangata rarely spoke in these meetings, but he nodded for her to continued.
She hesitated, placing a hand on Travis’s arm, as though it granted her courage.
It seems to me, she continued, and Sophia translated for Nguyen and Travis. That ever since we encountered your people, you have been able to do the impossible, she hesitated. Or rather…find a way to make the impossible, possible. When faced with an immovable barrier, instead of giving up, you simply find another way.
“What are you saying, Isabella?” Travis asked, entwining his fingers with hers.
A smile touched her face as she looked at him, then back at the room. We have been trying to find a way to defeat Maya’s army, to match her power, but however we look at it, the task seems impossible. She is too powerful, our brothers and sisters too numerous.
“And what would you suggest?” Nguyen asked.
That we look at our problem another way, Isabella replied. There is much we do not know about the Old One, but it seems to me there is a question we have not yet asked.
And what is that? Sophia said hesitantly.
What does she want? Isabella responded.
Something stirred within Lukys at the Tangata’s words, a memory buried deep. He shuddered as he sensed Sophia alongside him, realising she felt the same stirring. They stood together in silence, concentrating on that lost past, on secrets hidden inside their own minds. Images emerged slowly from the depths, and Lukys held his breath, waiting, watching with Sophia as faces took shape from the shadows…
Ten pairs of grey eyes stared around the circle of those gathered, but Lukys sensed that these beings were not Tangata, that this memory was older even than the arrival of his ancestors in Perfugia, before the kingdoms of man had risen, from a time when the old world had Fallen.
These were the first of their kind, the Old Ones in flesh.
A shiver ran down his spine as he recognised Maya’s face amongst those who had gathered.
“How many years have passed now, brothers, sisters?” the speaker stood with Maya, and Lukys realised from their closeness they were partners. “How long since we unleashed the doom upon this land? Since we last birthed a new generation?”
“It has not been so long,” another replied. He shifted nervously on his feet, reaching for the female who stood with him, clutching her hand. “Only a few years. The children will come.”
“No,” it was Maya who spoke now, her voice touched by anger. “The winged ones have betrayed us, betrayed the sacrifice of my sires.” She bared her teeth. “There are those who speak of sightings in the mountains. We should go to them, take our vengeance, before the end comes.”
“It was your own father who brokered the peace,” the first speake
r argued. “I will not break it now, not when our strength wans.”
“You would rather a slow death?” Maya’s partner replied. “To see the noble Chead fade away, lost to the annals of history?”
“It has not come to that, not yet,” came the reply. The Old One hesitated, and Lukys could see the doubt on his face. “And…there are still the humans. We know from the past—”
“A false hope!” Maya snarled. “You would see us debased, our powers corrupted by those creatures?” She drew back her lips to reveal white teeth. “No, I say it must be war. If not against the cursed winged ones, then with humanity itself. You know the danger they pose. Pockets of their civilisation remain, hidden beneath the earth, protected from the darkness we unleashed. We should seek them out, destroy them once and for all, before they rise again. And…perhaps they might hold the key to our survival, some secret in our creation that could save us.”
Many of those who stood with Maya stirred at that, and Lukys sensed their agreement. Even then, hundreds of years before the Sovereigns and the war started by the queen, it seemed there had been hatred between their peoples. But he noticed that others dissented, more in fact, and now the male who argued against Maya and her partner stepped forward.
“We are tired of war,” he said softly, shaking his head. “of death. For years we have dwindled. I will see no more of my people’s blood spilt in senseless violence.”
“You would rather waste away, the glory of our people lost to time?” Maya’s mate questioned.
“I would rather live to face whatever glory, whatever doom fate has dictated for the Chead,” came the reply.
“So be it,” Maya spat. Shaking her head, she turned her gaze on the rest of the circle. “Follow Tangata and Chiara if you must, but I will not go quietly into the night. Raxion and I will live as did my sires when they saved us from humanity’s wrath. Any who wish to see the Chead rise again, follow me, and I will lead you to glory.”
Dreams of Fury: Descendants of the Fall Book IV Page 13
