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

it was best to be sure before he accidentally blurted out any secrets. It meant he was likely the only human alive who knew the Tangata’s secret.

What is it that you want, Lukys? Sophia’s voice whispered in his mind. What is it you fight for?

Lukys looked at her sharply. “For humanity…” He trailed off, a lump lodging in his throat and he slumped into the sofa. Absently he took another sip of the tea, wondering at the question. How could he not fight for humanity?

And yet, what had his fellow man ever done for him? Other than Romaine, the only friends he’d ever had in this world were sitting outside enjoying the cool evening air. And they had sided with the Tangata.

“I don’t know what I fight for anymore,” he said finally. “I’ve only ever known what they taught us in the academy, but that was all lies. I’m lost.”

They were silent for a while then, though it was pensive. There was a depth to Sophia’s expression now, her eyes lost in the distance, as though she were contemplating the secrets of the universe.

I never wanted to be a warrior, Sophia said at last. I did it for my people, to protect the weaker amongst us. But I am tired of killing for duty.

Lukys nodded. He recalled the last Tangata he had slain on the banks of the Illmoor. It had hardly been older than himself. Lukys recalled the fear he’d glimpsed in the creature’s eyes before the final blow. Maybe that had been Zachariah. He would never ask.

I want children, Lukys. His heart clenched and he struggled to look at her as she continued: To bring life to this world, instead of death.

The truth shone from her eyes, could be seen in the earnestness of her smile. For just a second he wondered what that would be like, to give himself to this strange creature. A shiver ran down his spine and he stood up suddenly.

“I can’t,” he gasped, heart suddenly racing.

Sophia stared at him for just a moment, those solid grey eyes wide, then looked away.

I think you must have Tangatan blood, you know.

Lukys started at her words. “What?”

She still couldn’t look at him, but was instead inspecting the blue flower pattern on her cup. It’s the only explanation for your talent. It’s why I chose you.

That’s impossible! he shouted in his mind, but still she did not look at him.

It’s not…unheard of, she murmured. Those of the seventh and younger generations, many are born with human eyes. They practically are human. They sometimes went to live amongst the Calafe, before the war.

He shook his head. “How would they have gotten to Perfugia?”

Sophia shrugged, but there were no answers this time. Lukys swallowed, his mind turning over her words. It wasn’t possible, was it? Perfugia was hundreds of miles away from the Tangatan homeland. How would one of the creatures, even one who appeared human, have reached the distant island? And yet…if not the Tangata, where had his ability come from?

There were still so many questions, but he wouldn’t find the answers this night. Letting out a long breath, he looked towards the bedroom.

“I’m…going to sleep,” he said, his voice strained.

Still Sophia did not look at him. I’ll sleep here.

There was no missing the sadness in her voice. It tugged at Lukys, but he steeled his heart and nodded. Goodnight.

He strode through the open door and closed it softly behind him. Then he was alone, looking down at that soft bed, the empty covers, the pillows plumped and stacked lovingly against the headboard. Tears stung his eyes and he slumped onto the cushioned mattress.

It was just all too strange.

23

The Tangata

Adonis stood in the unnatural glow of the magic lights and gazed upon the Old One. His heart was racing, fear setting his every sense on edge, images of blood and gore flashing through his mind.

The Matriarch had been right. They had found one, alive, still slumbering in a magic sleep. The creature hung before them in the giant glass cylinder, suspended by the liquids within, her bare body cast in a red glow by the illumination rising from below. A slight hum filled the room, like the distant buzzing of bees, but otherwise the Birthing Ground was silent, as though the very earth held its breath, waiting for what came next.

A shiver ran through Adonis as he looked upon his ancestor. The red light felt almost a warning, as though whoever had left the creature here had feared someone might one day try to wake her, and was sending him a warning.

But Adonis could not heed their council. The female hanging suspended before him represented the hope of his entire race, their last chance to restore strength to future generations. From her would spring a new first generation of Tangata, their powers, their strength restored. Then humanity would quiver before the might of his people.

If she was sane.

His skin crawled but Adonis fought to suppress the sensation and held out his hand for a hammer. There was no point lingering, delaying that which must be done. Breath held, he stepped forward and hefted the tool. But as he approached the cylinder, his doubt came rushing back, and he hesitated, hammer raised to strike.

Was this the right thing to do, the right decision for his people, for the world?

What do I care about the world if it belongs to humanity?

He brought the hammer down.

A crash shattered the peace of the Birthing Ground as the glass caved outwards, the pressure of the liquid within sending the cylinder’s contents spilling across the ground. Adonis leapt aside as the body followed. Not the most dignified reawakening for his ancestor, but the Tangata did not know enough about the magic of this place to free her any other way.

Retreating to stand with his sisters and brothers, Adonis watched as the Old One slowly woke. He kept the hammer clutched tight at his side as he waited, watching for the first hint of