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

Gravel slopes rose away from them, turning to sheer cliffs a few hundred yards up the valley, becoming a narrowing gorge that twisted out of sight. There was no way of telling whether the canyon would end in a dead end. Where they sat, they could still climb from the valley and continue along the ridge instead, but Erika didn’t relish the thought of climbing those treacherous slopes. If only Cara had been willing to take to the skies and scout the way ahead, she could have told them which was the best option.

Still muttering to herself, Cara lowered herself onto a rock nearby. Apparently recovered from his shock, the soldier stepped past her to attend to the fire, before pulling a pot from a nearby pack and placing it over the flames. Oats and a generous helping of water from an oilskin followed with a soft hiss.

Erika watched the man with amusement—he seemed to be studiously trying not to stare at Cara. Across the flames, the Goddess wrinkled her nose as she watched him, then rose and crossed to where the soldier was working, her footsteps silent on the loose stones.

“Arg, is there a reason for humanity’s obsession with oatmeal?” she asked, pouting slightly. Beside her, the soldier yelped as he finally noticed her presence at his shoulder, but Cara only went on: “I can’t imagine why you find it so appealing, it’s basically just grey mush.”

“I…I…sorry, Your Divinity!” the improvised cook gasped. He fumbled at the pot and almost dropped it into the flames.

“You should be!” Cara exclaimed, leaning forward and fixing him with a glare.

The man yelped and almost tripped over himself. Erika rolled her eyes. Just as the soldiers had become accustomed to her presence, the Goddess had grown used to their staring. In fact, now she seemed to take a certain amount of amusement from their awe.

“Oatmeal is perfectly acceptable, soldier,” Erika said before Cara made the poor man any more mortified. She turned her gaze on the Goddess. “If you’d ever made it to Mildeth, I’d have shown you a real breakfast.”

Erika immediately regretted opening her mouth as Cara’s face darkened.

“A shame,” was all the Goddess said, but the conversation died after that, and they waited in silence for the soldier to finish preparing the breakfast.

“Here, Archivist,” the man said finally, offering her a bowl of freshly poured oatmeal.

Nodding her thanks, Erika accepted the offering. She held her tongue when she saw it was just as unappetising as Cara had claimed. The man collected another bowl and turned his back from them to scoop another portion from the pot—or probably two, knowing Cara’s appetite—before bowing low and passing it to Cara. She took it with a smile.

“Thank you.”

The man hesitated, still looking nervous, before he finally blurted out: “Are you really a God?”

A smile touched Cara’s lips and she crooked her head to the side, eyeing the man. “What do you think?”

“I…” The man swallowed visibly. “You…you have wings.”

Cara glanced over her shoulders and gasped. “You’re right!” The feathered limbs lifted slightly with her mock surprise. “What does it mean?!”

The soldier swallowed again, shaking his head, looking at the ground. “I don’t know. We…I…didn’t believe…not like they do in the west. I don’t…know what to think.”

Erika chuckled to herself as she watched the exchange, but at the man’s last words Cara’s shoulders drooped and she looked away.

“Maybe I’m not sure what I am either,” she said at last.

The soldier stared at her for a moment, then finally he nodded, seemingly satisfied. He let out a long breath. “Enjoy your meal.”

He moved away at that, and Erika returned her attention to her oatmeal. To the man’s credit, he’d added dried apple and raisins. They gave a little flavour to her first bite. She ate slowly as the soldiers moved about, preparing for the day's march, until Maisie finally appeared from her tent. Erika waved the spy over.

“Enjoying the meal?” Maisie asked as she approached, nodding a greeting to Cara.

Her mouth full of oatmeal, the Goddess didn’t reply, and the spy chuckled. Turning to Erika, she raised an eyebrow in question. The spy didn’t need to speak for Erika to understand her question.

“I think we’re in the right place,” she said, then reached into her satchel and drew out her map. “See these,” she said, pointing to the twin white spots on either side of the red star marking what they thought was the home of the Gods. She nodded to the peaks rising either on side of the valley.

The spy leaned closer, eyes wide. “We’re almost there?” she asked, scanning the map. Then her head whipped around to focus on Cara and she repeated the question: “We’re almost there?”

Cara looked up from her meal, scowled, but said nothing. Silently she scooped the last morsel from the wooden bowl and placed it in her mouth, then exaggerated chewing motions.

Erika rolled her eyes. “Ignore her,” she replied. “She won’t tell us anything useful.”

Maisie nodded. “But you’re sure?”

“I am.”

“Excellent!” Maisie exclaimed. “Then what are we sitting here for? Let’s go find the city of your Gods!”

Despite herself, Erika’s heart throbbed at the thought. Stifling a groan, she levered herself to her feet and looked at Cara. “Well, are you going to sulk? Or join us?”

Cara rolled her eyes, but after a moment she set aside her bowl and made to stand. She managed to rise halfway to her feet, but suddenly seemed to lose her balance and pitched forward. Erika’s hand snatched out and caught the Goddess by the arm, steadying her.

“Are you alright?” she asked with a frown.

Cara nodded. She released Erika’s arm and tried to take a step, but immediately swung off-balance and staggered sideways instead. This time Erika wasn’t fast enough to catch her, and the Goddess slumped to her hands and knees beside the fire. Her wings flared outwards, the twelve feet of feathered limbs forcing everyone back.

“Cara?” Erika hissed, suddenly concerned. “What’s wrong?”

A moan rumbled from the Goddess. “I…don’t feel