Dreams of Fury: Descendants of the Fall Book IV by Hodges, Aaron (most important books to read .txt) 📗

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 Sophia 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