Wrath of the Forgotten

by Aaron Hodges

  Warmth flushed Lukys’s face but thankfully he was spared any further conversation about his love life by the arrival of voices at the gates of the compound. He frowned, turning in his seat to see several men and women approaching, carrying straw baskets.

  “Hello to the compound!” the first of the new arrivals called, the southern twang in his accent announcing him as Calafe. “We heard there were some new arrivals, how are y’all settling in?”

  The Perfugians stood around the courtyard as the group approached, frowns revealing their confusion. So far they hadn’t had much interaction with the other humans in the city. But the frowns soon turned to grins as the newcomers revealed the contents of their baskets.

  “Y’all hungry?” A woman asked, approaching their table.

  “Damn right!” Travis exclaimed, rising to look into the basket. He jabbed a thumb in Lukys’s direction. “This one didn’t catch us anything for dinner.”

  Lukys flashed Travis a scowl, but nodded his thanks as the woman passed him something wrapped in a cloth. She took a seat alongside Travis as Lukys unwrapped the offering, revealing a small pastry pie within.

  “It’s venison,” the woman explained, taking out one of her own. Uncovering the pie as Lukys had done, she proceeded to take a bite while holding the bottom half in the cloth.

  Raising an eyebrow, Lukys shared a glance with Travis, then attempted to mimic their new companion’s actions. The pastry was still hot, and taking a bite, he was surprised to find chunks of meat and gravy inside. It dripped down the side of the flaking pastry, but thankfully the cloth kept it from scalding his fingers.

  “So Perfugians, right?” the woman asked as they ate. “We don’t get many of your kind here. Must be quite the story.”

  Lukys glanced at the woman, thinking it must be the same with her. These were Calafe—this had been their city, before the Tangata had come. He wanted to ask her what they thought about this new life, their new masters. But that would have given him away.

  “You’re dammed right about that,” Dale said, interrupting Lukys’s thoughts as he appeared alongside them.

  He’d gotten a pie of his own from another of the Calafe, and sitting beside Lukys, he started to tell the tale of how they’d found themselves captives of the Tangata. Travis interrupted now and then with his own witty remarks, but Lukys found himself tuning out their words.

  Their expedition with the Archivist seemed like another life now, a different reality. Had he met Sophia back then, he would have run her through with his spear. Now, though…

  Lukys started as a single note of music rang through the courtyard. Swinging around, he saw that one of the newcomers had taken out a lute. Eyes fixed on the instrument, the woman paid the rest of the courtyard no attention, only strummed the instrument again, starting into a song—soft at first, but quickly building in volume. Each strum of the strings reverberated from the wooden walls of the courtyard.

  A harmonica soon joined her, then a violin, as others took instruments from their baskets and began to play. The Perfugians remained at their benches, a look of wonder in their eyes as voices rose to greet the night. It was an old song, beginning in the darkness of The Fall, when death had stalked the land and even the Tangata had hidden far beneath the earth.

  Then the pace increased. Hope appeared in the tone of the singers, as light returned to the world. Swept away by the music, Lukys sat with his eyes closed, imagining those ancient days when the only worries of mankind had been their own follies. The early tribes had warred upon one another, until finally alliances had been formed. Kingdoms had risen from the ashes, binding the people together and restoring civilisation. But even then, the wars had continued, as each kingdom strove for supremacy.

  Only the threat of the Tangata had finally united them.

  What was left of that alliance now? Calafe had fallen and Gemaho had retreated, seeking refuge behind the mountains. Even Perfugia shirked its responsibilities, sending only their rejects, their unwanted to fight against the Tangata. Flumeer alone fought on.

  Lukys opened his eyes as he sensed movement nearby. A female Tangata now stood beside Travis—Isabella. Her grey eyes shone in the lanternlight as she ran a hand through his friend’s long hair. Lukys noticed then that the others had returned as well. He found himself looking around for Sophia.

  Lukys.

  Lukys started as a voice spoke into his mind. He looked back at Isabella, finding her eyes on him.

  Yes? he asked tentatively.

  She glanced at Travis. Could you tell him I would like to dance?

  Oh! Lukys lifted his eyebrows, surprised by the request. He hadn’t realised the creatures even knew what dancing was. Smiling, he shifted his gaze to Travis. She wants to dance.

  Travis grinned and standing, he offered a hand to Isabella. “Hey, would you like to dance?”

  Isabella was still watching Lukys, a frown creasing her forehead, but after a moment she smiled. The two moved into the open space in the middle of the courtyard. Lukys watched as Travis drew his partner close.

  They began to dance, cautiously at first, moving slowly in time with the music. The bulky recruit appeared clumsy beside the Tangata’s fluid grace, yet the smile Isabella wore seemed genuine. The music washed over the two, carrying them away across the cobbles.

  Lukys found himself wondering where the Tangata had learned such things. Legends claimed they’d been little more than animals when they’d first emerged from beneath the earth. Had those too been lies? Or had their species evolved through the centuries?

  “I wonder where Travis got that idea,” Dale commented.

  Frowning, Lukys turned to his companion, but at that moment the man’s partner appeared. He rose without prompting and the two followed Travis and Isabella out into the middle of the courtyard. The couple danced freely now, in tune with one another’s bodies, sliding through the steps with a refinement the recruits had never managed with Romaine’s drills.

  One by one, others rose to join the dancers, bringing the courtyard to life. The Calafe woman that had given them the pies rose to join one of the guitarists, leaving Lukys alone on his bench. Sitting there, he could almost begin to see the magic of the place, the peace his friends had found with these strange creatures. Some struggled more than others, moving through the steps with difficulty, but their Tangatan partners didn’t seem to mind; indeed, they wore patient smiles on their faces.

  Lukys shook his head as he watched the dancers. Then he frowned, his thoughts drawn back to what Dale had said. Why had the man been confused about Travis’s actions? Lukys had told his friend that Isabella wanted to dance…hadn’t he?

  They seem happy.

  Lukys looked around as Sophia’s voice interrupted his thoughts, finding the Tangata standing beside him. For once, her arrival did not startle him. It seemed right that she was here, and at first he did not reply, only sat looking at her.

  Sophia’s eyes were dark in the starlight, her hair cascading down around her shoulders, sharp cheekbones adding an elegance to her face that Lukys had rarely seen amongst humans. She had changed into a satin dress, the fabric of purest black, clinging to her athletic frame, highlighting her slim waist, and…other things.

  Suddenly Lukys’s throat was dry. Heart pounding, he felt as though he were seeing Sophia for the first time. He had treated her poorly these past days, ignoring her for the most part, staying away. Now though…

  Rising, Lukys offered his hand. Would you like to dance?

  Sophia’s eyes grew wide and to his surprise, she dropped her gaze. You don’t have to do that.

  I want to.

  He took her hand before she could argue further. She didn’t resist as he drew her towards the other dancers, though he sensed her trepidation.

  Are you sure? she asked as the music picked up pace, sending the dancers spiralling around them.

  Lukys nodded, and the hint of a smile touched her lips. Silently, she stepped closer and Lukys placed his hand on her hip,
so that their bodies were just inches apart. A spark shot through his body, a thrilling, surging sensation that set his every nerve alight.

  I’m dancing with a Tangata.

  Sophia’s smile broadened and he realised she’d heard him. Silently she placed a hand on his chest. He shivered at the touch. They began moving to the music. Lukys was no dancer, but he found the steps came more easily to him now than during his days at the academy, and he realised this wasn’t much different from the fighting patterns Romaine had taught him atop the walls of Fogmore. His feet, accustomed to maintaining his balance now, moved naturally through the steps.

  With their minds in tune, he found Sophia moving almost before he did, matching him stride for stride. Together they spun through the courtyard, bodies pressed close, breaths mingling, the rest of the couples forgotten, until Lukys felt it was just the two of them, alone in the courtyard. For just a moment, he allowed himself to be carried away by the music, drawn in by the shimmer in Sophia’s eyes, the magic of the moonlight shining down from overhead.

  His mind pounded with a distant beat, matching the pulse of the music. Belatedly, he realised it was the voices of the other Tangata, the racing of their minds, the murmurs of their silent voices to the music of the Calafe.

  How can I hear you all? Lukys asked, looking at Sophia.

  Her eyes were only an inch from his, her lips so close he could feel the warmth of her breath on his cheek.

  I told you, her reply came hesitantly, or perhaps…perhaps humanity is evolving?

  Perhaps…

  Concern showed in Sophia’s eyes as she watched him. It pained Lukys to see it, and without thinking he pressed his lips to hers. She flinched in his arms, but a moment later he felt her relax, and then she was kissing him back, her lips parting, the warmth of her mouth mingling with his.

  Lukys found himself grinning as he drew back and saw the shock on Sophia’s face.

  That was…unexpected, she murmured.

  He didn’t reply, only held her in his arms, turning her through the steps of the waltz. She was right—he’d surprised even himself. But maybe he was done ignoring his own logic, done fighting the inevitable. The music was fading now, and he realised belatedly that they were the last couple in the courtyard. The others had vanished into their apartments, to their rooms…

  Lukys’s heart started to race as he looked into Sophia’s eyes. His hand tightened around hers as he found himself imagining what it would be like to share that grand bed with this strange woman, to look into those strange eyes as they…

  The thought was interrupted as a distant thumping sounded in his mind. It began like the distant whispers of the Tangata, but quickly rose in pitch, until it seemed it would force all other thoughts from his mind. The smile fell from Sophia’s lips, and he knew she was hearing the chanting too. Slowly the words took shape.

  Death, death, death.

  The hairs on his neck tingled as though a cold breeze had blown through the courtyard. The chant was already growing to a crescendo, the words practically shouted now, like the banging of drums, a call to war. And he knew then that he’d heard this same chant before, deep in the tunnels under the earth, in the Birthing Grounds of the Tangata.

  The Old Ones.

  His blood ran cold as he looked at Sophia. “They’re here.”

  26

  The Fallen

  Pain engulfed Romaine as he reached out with his one hand and gripped the rock.

  One, two, three.

  Groaning, he heaved himself halfway onto the ledge, then using his injured arm to lodge himself there, then shifted his hand so he could push himself up the rest of the way. His feet found fresh purchase and gasping, he looked up, seeking his next handhold.

  The brightening sky still seemed so far away. The crack that marked the mouth of the ravine might as well have been a hundred miles off. He would never make it, certainly not before Yasin…

  One step at a time.

  Determined, Romaine reached out again, hauling himself up, planting himself in place with his elbow, then pushing up the rest of the way. He was lucky—the ravine was not as steep as it had looked from above. The ground sloped at maybe a sixty degree angle. With his body pressed to the stone, he had just enough purchase to hold himself in place. If it had been a sheer cliff, he’d never have climbed out.

  But then, the fall probably would have killed him, and he wouldn’t have been around to worry about whether he could escape. He wouldn’t still feel the pain of his loss, of seeing yet another friend murdered, wouldn’t have felt the agony of his own failures. Despair hung around his shoulders like an anchor, threatening to drag him back into the depths, whispering for him to let go, to surrender.

  Just a little farther.

  He would not give up. He would not let Cara down. She was all he had left.

  Hours before, Romaine had awoken in darkness, surprised to find himself alive, though his body ached as though he’d taken a dozen beatings. Thankfully his sword had been lying nearby, and while the shield Amina had gifted him was dented, its strappings had survived the fall. If he made it out of this hole, Romaine would need both. Yasin would not go quietly.

  He’ll kill you anyway.

  Thrusting aside thoughts of defeat, Romaine continued, climbing up and up, until finally he found himself rolling over the lip of the ravine, free. Sunlight touched his face, searing his eyes, waking him from his despair. Romaine blinked, then pushed himself up. A familiar collection of boulders dotted the site around him.

  Lorene still lay where he had fallen. A groan tearing from his lips, Romaine crawled to his friend. Blood stained the dirt beneath him, but otherwise Lorene could have been sleeping. There was a peacefulness to his face, if one ignored the bolt still embedded in his chest.

  Romaine scrunched his eyes closed, struggling to contain his grief. Only one thing kept him from lying down beside his friend and waiting for death to find him.

  Cara.

  He came to his feet. His legs felt weak, unsteady, but at least he hadn’t broken anything in the fall. His eyes were drawn to the sky and he saw that the sun was still low on the distant horizon. Erika and the others would just be preparing to depart. If Yasin had not ordered an attack in the night, there might yet be hope to warn them

  Fist clenched, Romaine started towards the campsite, but as he cleared the ring of boulders, a distant sound carried to his ears. He hesitated, heart hammering in his chest. It sounded almost like…

  Romaine started to run. The clashing of steel and the screams of men grew louder as he cleared the last of the boulders and started down the slope. The valley twisted away from him, hiding the Gemaho campsite from view, but they couldn’t be far. Pushing beyond his pain, Romaine increased his pace.

  Ahead, the basin twisted and at last he spotted movement, still a few hundred yards away. Men swarmed around across the valley floor, where flashes of yellow revealed the Gemaho soldiers, desperately trying to defend themselves.

  Gathering his strength, Romaine drew his sword. Pain swamped him. He knew he could not change the outcome of the battle. Yet still he pushed on, past the doubt, past the agony. In that moment, it didn’t matter if he succeeded, only that he tried, just as Cara had tried to save their friends, back on the shores of the Illmoor.

  Stones crunched beneath his boots but none of Yasin’s men noticed his approach above the roar of battle. He saw one of the defenders go down, then another, and pressed on. The Gemaho seemed to be gathered around a cluster of boulders, but there was no sign of Cara, or even Erika. Had something happened to them?

  There was no turning back now. The remaining Gemaho were outnumbered, but where Yasin’s men attacked with cold fury, they met them with a cool proficiency. Even so, the thugs that had accompanied Romaine on the journey from Flumeer were taking a heavy toll. The Gemaho would not last much longer.

  Then Romaine noticed something strange. As one of the Flumeeren warriors attacked, he staggered as though struck by something in
visible. Before he could recover, a Gemaho sword took him in the throat. Narrowing his eyes, Romaine saw it happen again to another soldier. Realisation followed and he searched the thrashing bodies for a glimpse of Erika. There was still no sign of her amongst the defenders, but he was sure it had to be her magic. It gave him a flash of hope, though he couldn’t understand how she had tricked the queen. Had Nguyen given her an imitation gauntlet?

  Romaine was growing close now, and as the bodies of Yasin’s fighters piled up, he finally caught a glimpse of the man himself. Yasin stood at the rear of his soldiers, crossbow in hand. As Romaine watched, he calmly fired over the heads of his men into the Gemaho ranks, taking a man in the shoulder. Drawing another bolt from the quiver at his side, he began to reload.

  Rage touched Romaine and for a moment he longed to throw himself at the cursed warrior. But what would that achieve? He had already failed to defeat Yasin once. In his injured state, he wouldn’t stand a chance now. No, he had to find Cara, to protect her. She was all that mattered.

  Where would she be? He had expected to see her somewhere below, but there was no sign of the winged Goddess. Could it be that she’d never been with the group in the first place? Romaine’s stride faltered and he almost crumpled at the thought. But no, Yasin’s spy had talked about the Goddess. So where was she?

  Ahead, one of the Flumeerens glanced back and finally saw Romaine approaching. His eyes widened in shock and gritting his teeth, Romaine put on a burst of speed. Caught between the Gemaho soldiers and Romaine, the man hesitated. It was enough, and dropping his shoulder, Romaine slammed into the man’s chest, hurling him back into his fellows.

  The Flumeerens staggered away from their comrade while on the hillside above Yasin himself cried out in rage. Ignoring them all, Romaine waved his sword and leapt past the Flumeerens, making for the Gemaho line. The yellow garbed soldiers drew together, weapons raised, but before they could strike a voice called out from somewhere behind them.