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

Show me. She spoke in a softer tone this time, with more control, though the words still pierced Adonis to his very core.

He bowed in response, and silently he summoned memories of these past years—of the terrible force of humanity that had invaded their homeland, slaughtering children and innocents, of the Tangatan counterattack, the years of battle and death as wave upon wave of humanity came against them. Each time the Tangata had emerged victorious, yet still the enemy fought on, and all the while the Tangatan numbers dwindled, their strength fading.

Finally he saw again that last battle on the banks of the Illmoor, the humans they had taken—and the Anahera that had come against them, wings spread in the wind. The Old One started at this image, a frown creasing her forehead.

Adonis let the images fade. You see?

There was a long pause before the Old One replied: These…Anahera, they are your enemy?

Adonis hesitated. The Anahera had not been seen in centuries—a single one did not mean they had joined the war on the side of humanity. And yet…there was a glow in the Old One’s eyes as she watched him, and swallowing, he nodded.

So it would seem.

The Old One took a step towards him and Adonis flinched, still expecting to be struck down. But she only reached out a hand, gentle now, as though fearing she might harm him unintentionally.

What is your name, child?

A shiver ran down his spine at the creature’s words and for a second he felt an inexplicable desire to flee. He could feel the weight of her mind pressing against his, the power behind her words. It was almost like…

He shook his head as the thought trailed away to nothing. I am Adonis.

The Old One nodded. You may call me…Maya. Her smile grew as she traced a finger down the curve of his jaw. Fear not, child. I will see our enemies burn like the forest before an inferno.

24

The Fugitive

It was a few days before the soldiers finally began adjusting to the sight of Cara and her wings. To her credit, the Goddess hadn’t taken to the skies in that time, though Erika sensed this was more to assuage her worries than their companions’ benefit. Even so, Cara’s actions still felt incomprehensible. The Goddess had still made her disapproval about their destination clear, refusing to give the slightest hint as to whether they were on the right path. Yet she had also kept her word.

If Erika had been in the Goddess’s shoes, with wings and the freedom of the sky beckoning, she would have fled at the first opportunity. But then, that was the point, wasn’t it? Erika was only human, not a fifty-year-old Goddess in the body of a twenty-year-old with wings. She couldn’t possibly hope to understand the forces that bound the Anahera.

At least the Gemaho had not been completely struck dumb by Cara’s wings, unlike their Flumeeren counterparts. Nguyen’s soldiers might have been stunned by the sight, but they hadn’t fallen to their knees in awe, and their shock had mostly passed quickly. There were only a few now who still lost their ability to speak in Cara’s presence.

Which was fortunate, as the going had become progressively more difficult with each passing day. While the snow line seemed higher this side of the mountains, the valleys they traversed had become progressively steeper, the terrain more and more difficult. And as they neared the soaring peaks, Erika found each inhalation brought less energy, as though however hard she tried, she could not quite fill her lungs. By the end of each day, her temples were pounding, and despite the warmth of the sun overhead, she found herself trembling whenever they stopped for more than a few minutes.

Dawn, on their fifth day since disembarking the ship, found them waking in a broad, U-shaped valley, snow-capped peaks towering all around them. Despite the cold, Erika rose from her sleeping bag touched by excitement. If her guess was correct, the home of the Anahera was close.

Shadow still clung to the valley as she pushed aside the canvas tent flap and stepped into the open. Several of the soldiers were already up and busy repacking their tents for the day’s journey. Erika was relieved their presence had spared her from carrying the heavy things.

A moan came from inside her tent and a few moments later Cara’s face appeared, tangled copper hair hanging across her face. Erika might have trusted the Goddess not to harm them, but it had still seemed prudent to keep her close in the night.

“Arg, Erika, the sun’s not even up,” Cara muttered as she crawled through the flap. “You know, if you’re going to drag me back to my parents, you could at least let me sleep in a little.”

One of her wings caught in the canvas and the Goddess cursed and had to contract the limb before she could pass. The movement dislodged several of her feathers and a gust of wind sent them swirling away. Absently, Erika snatched one from the air. The things still amazed her, their length, the depth of their colour. Shaking her head, she released it again. Despite her growing familiarity with the Goddess, the sight of those wings still sent a shiver down her spine at times.

Ignoring Cara’s complaints, she turned towards the remains of last night’s fire, only to find another of the soldiers standing there, eyes wide as he watched Cara finish clambering from the tent. Erika sighed—this was one of the few Gemaho who still hadn’t overcome his awe for the Goddess. Knowing it would be some time before he recovered his wits, she stepped around him and approached the ring of stones they’d placed there for seating.

Lowering herself onto her rock from the night before, Erika was relieved to see someone had already lit the fire for the morning. Stretching out her hands, she let the heat wash over her. Her eyes drifted