Wrath of the Forgotten: Descendants of the Fall Book II by Hodges, Aaron (good english books to read .txt) 📗

might shine some light on the subject. You knew the Goddess best. Would you join me for a drink, Calafe?”

For a moment, Romaine was tempted to turn the woman down. His chest was aching something fierce and he wanted little more than to lie down and sleep a dozen hours. But…one did not simply turn down a request from the Queen of Flumeer. Muffling a sigh, he nodded, and the queen led the way inside. Ignoring the hostility of her guards, Romaine followed.

Within, the tent was more luxurious than he had expected for a woman who wore a full suit of armour. But then, he supposed even a warrior queen needed a few indulgences. The floor of the tent had been lined with stone tiles and Romaine quickly did his best to wipe the mud from his boots in the doorway. Warmth greeted him as he stepped inside, drawing his attention to a brazier set in the corner. Several plain wooden chairs had been set there, while beyond a feathered mattress lay on a slate bed.

Surprised they had managed to fit so much into the supply wagons, Romaine returned his gaze to the queen.

“Take a seat, Calafe,” she said, gesturing to the chairs beside the brazier. “Perhaps the warmth will ease your injuries.”

The warmth was only adding to Romaine’s weariness, but he did as he was bid while the queen moved to a cabinet set beside the bed. She joined him shortly though, proffering a glass of amber liquid. Accepting the drink, Romaine sniffed gingerly before raising an eyebrow.

“Calafe gold?” he murmured. It had been almost a decade since he’d last drunk the wine. One of the first attacks by the Tangata had burned the grapes on their southern vines.

“Of course,” the queen replied, lifting a glass of her own in salute. She leaned forward then, the glow of a lantern setting her emerald eyes alight. “So, tell me of her, Romaine. What was it like to sup with the Divine?”

Romaine found himself unable to hold the queen’s gaze. Instead, he took a sip of the wine, and instantly found himself carried away to another time, one lit with sunshine and love and hope, to days spent with his wife and son, before the Tangata had stolen everything away. He sighed as the images faded, to be replaced by one of Cara, sitting in the plaza of Fogmore, lit by the winter sun.

“In many ways, she was just like us,” he murmured. “A little strange, innocent, but I doubt we would have ever realised her true identity if not for the creatures we found in the caverns.”

He clenched imaginary fingers at the mention of the beasts, a shudder running down his spine. His memory of the time beneath the earth was foggy—he’d lost a lot of blood—but he could still recall the faces of those ancient creatures with terrifying clarity.

“I have read your report,” the queen murmured, pursing her lips. “The Goddess fought them off?”

Romaine nodded. “Her eyes turned grey, just like the Tangata—and those…other things. We believed it meant she was one of them. The creatures had slain several of the Tangata and we thought the sight had enraged her.” The words were bitter in his mouth, for that had been the first of many mistakes he’d made in the south. “It wasn’t until…the river that I realised who she truly was.”

“A shame,” the queen murmured, “though understandable, given the eyes. They were amber normally, no?”

“Yes,” Romaine replied. It seemed the queen had done her research well. “Those creatures, Your Majesty, I’ve never seen the like. If there are more of them…” He swallowed, lifting his left arm instinctively, and the queen’s eyes were drawn to the bandaged stump. Despite her calm demeanour, she shivered and rubbed her own wrist. Ignoring the gesture, Romaine went on: “Let’s just say, we could not have defeated them without Cara’s help. She fought like nothing I have ever seen, killed them with hardly a thought.”

As he spoke the words, Romaine was drawn back to the battle on the banks of the Illmoor. The way Cara had fought against the Tangata had been utterly different to the conflict in the tunnels of the Gods. In the darkness, her eyes had been mad, her blows wild, sickeningly strong. Beside the river though, she had fought with a cool precision and skill, and the Tangata she had downed had not been slain.

“Such a wonder, that the Gods allowed their magic to fall into the hands of humanity. No wonder it drove those sorry souls you discovered in the depths mad.”

“Mankind is not meant to wield such power,” Romaine murmured in agreement.

The queen only smiled. “It does lead me to wonder how Erika has wielded her magic gauntlet for so long. Tell me, did you notice a change in her, during your time south of the Illmoor?”

Romaine hesitated, recalling for an instant the way Erika had tortured Cara with the magic, when she’d thought the woman responsible for her ill fortune. That had been before they’d discovered Cara’s true identity, when they’d thought her a Tangatan spy, but even so, her actions had been vicious, vindictive…

…but then again, after discovering the Perfugian recruits butchered, Romaine had not acted much differently. Finally, he shook his head.

“No, not that I noticed.”

“A pity,” Amina mused, “though I suppose when we recover the artefact, her experimentation will serve me well.” She chuckled. “I admit, that was one of the reasons I permitted her mad expedition. The magic needed testing before I claimed it for my own.”

“That ‘mad expedition’ claimed the lives of my friends,” Romaine replied, struggling to keep the anger from his voice.

The queen looked up at that, her eyes widening with surprise. “The Perfugians, of course,” she said after a moment. “Their loss was…regrettable.”

Romaine ground his teeth, but said nothing. It was not his place to criticise the Flumeeren monarch, however much her decisions angered him. Instead, he found himself staring at the open grate of the brazier.