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

feel his spirits falling with each step. He still didn’t know where they could go, whether they should cross the river again. All he knew was they had to keep moving. But were they only delaying the inevitable? Even if they reached Flumeer, how long could the nation stand? Against the power of the Old One, of the Tangata, the human armies that defended the banks of the Illmoor seemed pitiful by comparison.

A sense of hopelessness crept into his thoughts and he found his shoulders slumping, his steps slowing in the darkness. What was the point of fighting on when all hope was lost?

He started as light appeared in the darkness, illuminating the ground beneath his feet. Stumbling to a stop, he swung around, almost surprised to see the sun lifting out from behind those towering mountains. Again he felt the urge to seek the distant peaks. Perhaps there he would find answers—about Sophia and the other Tangatan partners, about the Old Ones, about his own strange ability.

But that path was barred to him. Yet the sight still lifted him, reminded him there were still greater forces at play in the world, counters to the power of the Old One. Cara would stand against them, Romaine as well. They had already defeated the creatures once, down in the bowels of the earth. They could do it again.

No, Lukys needed to focus on his own survival, on the survival of his Perfugian companions. Let the queens and Gods and the Tangata wage their war; Lukys only needed to save the few brave souls that had dared to follow him this far. He would see them safely home.

His eyes lifted to the river and he thought again of its endless journey, down to the distant ocean, and his heart quickened as a thought came to him. He turned, seeking out Sophia. His heart clenched as he found her nearby, ashy hair lit by the rising sun. She had stayed close, his own personal guardian—

He shook off the thought, concentrating on the task at hand.

Sophia, he murmured, keeping their conversation private for now. She looked around, eyes lifting in surprise, and he quickly went on. You know these lands. What lies at the mouth of the river?

The Tangata’s eyebrows knitted together and it was a moment before she responded. Sand, she replied, and…there is a small fishing village, I believe.

Lukys’s heart quickened, and nodding to her, he strode ahead. They would stop soon, to rest and recover, to dry out their soaked clothing, but for now a fresh determination set him alight. He knew where they needed to go now, difficult as the journey might be. There was only one place left in the kingdoms of man that might grant them safe harbour, one place that could withstand whatever fate befell the rest of humanity. One place where he might find answers.

We’re going home.

33

The Fugitive

Erika watched as Romaine slumped to the ground, his eyes fluttering closed. The Goddess clutched desperately at his chest, but the Calafe did not move.

Grief touched Erika as she looked on the dying man, but the loss barely registered beside her anguish, beside her rage at the man Yasin. Nearby, Maisie had drawn her blade and was battling furiously with the Flumeeren cutthroat. Silently Erika crouched, her fingers closing around the gauntlet she’d dropped.

Lifting it to her hand, she made to put it back on, then froze. Blood pounded in her ears as she looked on the source of the magic she had wielded these past months. Fear touched her as she recalled the ecstasy she had felt at its use, the power it had granted her. She longed for that power, and yet…if she put it back on, would she ever have the strength to remove it again?

A thump from nearby diverted her attention back to the warring pair in time to see Maisie’s blade go skittering across the gravels. The spy herself staggered back clutching her arm. Blood soaked her fingers as she tripped over the uneven ground and collapsed against the stones.

It was now or never. Closing her eyes, she moved her hand towards the gauntlet.

Then she flinched as a terrible keening sound erupted through the pass. Her eyes snapped open and she watched as Cara strode past, her eyes fixed on the Flumeeren killer.

Eyes stained grey, eyes the colour of death.

The keening turned to a terrible growl as auburn wings snapped wide. Cara no longer looked on the verge of death. She looked as she had in the tunnels of the Gods, fighting those ancient creatures.

Like a monster herself, the Tangata reborn.

And her gaze was fixed on Yasin.

“What the…” Yasin began, then broke off as Cara continued towards him.

Realising his danger, the cutthroat leapt for his crossbow. Erika’s heart lurched in her chest and she looked at Cara, but the Goddess made no move to stop him. Snatching up the weapon, Yasin hesitated, seeming confused at Cara’s hesitation. But he didn’t hesitate for long, and quickly he wound back the crossbow and dropped a bolt into place. Looking more confident now, he pointed it at Cara.

“Now, where were we?” He smiled again, though this time it seemed forced.

Cara only tilted her head to the side, as though perplexed by the human’s actions. A snarl tore from Yasin and a sharp twang followed as the crossbow discharged. Erika cried out as Cara seemed to shift, but a blink later, and the winged Goddess was still standing. Only now she held a crossbow bolt in one outstretched hand.

What?

The terrible growl rumbled through the pass again. Then the Goddess was stalking towards Yasin, and her grey eyes promised death.

Cursing, Yasin threw aside the crossbow and drew his sword. “Come on then, bitch,” he hissed. “Let’s see if Gods bleed.”

A smile spread across Cara’s lips. Erika shuddered as she looked into the Goddess’s eyes. There was a madness in those grey depths. This was not the woman she had come to know over the last weeks, the Goddess