Dreams of Fury: Descendants of the Fall Book IV

by Hodges, Aaron

  She just wished she could do more, that she could bring back Cara’s mother, that she could have made Farhan seen the truth about his daughter. Far from deserving punishment, Cara was an incredible, caring, loving young woman, deserving of pride, of love. If only she could have convinced the Anahera to see that truth, to abandon the folly of their own ancient ways, maybe then the world would have hope.

  But instead, Erika had failed yet again, had returned from the Mountains of the Gods emptyhanded. She knew now she would never change things, could do nothing to save her people.

  All she could do was lie in an abandoned farmhouse and hold her friend tight, banishing the cold and the nightmares for a time.

  Erika prayed it would be enough.

  18

  The Fallen

  Adonis lay in the dirt, rain falling softly about him, cradling the head of Nyriah in his lap. Hours had passed as he knelt there, slipping away like autumn leaves caught in the winter storm.

  Adonis didn’t care. He knelt there holding the fallen Anahera in his arms. She had saved him. Adonis struggled to comprehend what had happened, why she would have done such a thing. What had he been to her? Why try to stop Maya, put herself in harm’s way for him? After everything he’d done to her, how he had treated her people, how was it that Nyriah had found the strength to defy the Old One?

  More hours passed and night turned slowly to day. The light found Adonis alone in the mud, lost, forgotten. Silence hung over the riverbanks, over his mind, the muddy field abandoned. His fellow Tangata had left, abandoning him to exile, gone with the creature he had delivered them to, the Old One that carried their future.

  His future.

  A shudder swept through Adonis and finally the damn broke, and he felt at last the rejection of his entire people, of the woman he had sworn himself too—and the loss of the Anahera in his arms too, the slave he had so hated, who had stood proud against Maya’s Voice, even as all around her bowed in subservience.

  A hiss escaped Adonis’s throat and he doubled up, holding the cold body tight, wishing he could give her his warmth. He didn’t deserve to live, to continue after his failures, when this noble creature lay dead. Nyriah had possessed more courage than he ever had. She could have left this darkness and forged another path had she wanted, despite Maya’s powers, despite the fledgelings.

  The human found him like that, knelt in the dirt holding Nyriah, his body broken by Maya’s beating, barely conscious, barely sane from his grief. He sensed her before as she crouched nearby, smelt her, even through the burning reek of that drifted from the river. Immersed in his pain, at first Adonis ignored the creature, lying still, hoping her cursed presence would move on. But this human never could leave well enough alone.

  “Are you alive?” Maisie’s voice came finally, then when he did not move, again. “Adonis, is she alive?”

  His head jerked up at that, and he fixed his eyes on the human. The grey eyes of the Tangata, enough to send one of her kind scurrying in their weakness. But this human did not so much as flinch as she crouched beside him, brown eyes meeting grey.

  Instead, it was Adonis that looked away first.

  “I see.” Sadness crept into the human’s tone, and when he looked at her again, a tear streaked her cheek.

  Maisie sat back on her haunches, still eyeing him, watching closely. “I should kill you, you know,” she said softly, and for the first time Adonis noticed the knife she held. Where had she gotten that? How was she free, in fact? “For everything you’ve done, you deserve it.”

  Swallowing his pain, Adonis gently lay Nyriah down, her black wings falling limp in the mud, then turned to face the human. She rose quickly at the movement, knife raised before her, and he felt a brief satisfaction. At least his injured presence was still enough to generate fear in the human.

  But as he pushed himself slowly to his feet, it became obvious Adonis could not defend himself. Pain ate at his leg where it had twisted in the fall, strong enough to cripple him. It would be days before the torn muscles repaired themselves. Based on the look in Maisie’s eyes, he didn’t have days, or even hours.

  So instead he slumped back in the mud and stared up at her, lips pursed. For the first time in his life, he wished he could speak the language of humans, if only to demand she do it quickly, that she end his shame, his suffering, his…grief. He watched her with wide eyes, arms hung at his side, as though to say he was ready.

  But the human did not act, only stared back at him, knife gripped at her side. “I won’t though,” she said abruptly. Shaking her head, she turned away, her gaze falling on the fallen Anahera. “I don’t know why she saved you, but…I won’t undo what she did.” She flashed him a glare. “So you don’t need to worry about me.”

  Adonis hesitated at her words, heart twisting in his chest. For a second, he felt the urge to throw himself at the human, to force her to kill him, to end his suffering. The Anahera’s wings, so glorious, so beautiful, lay in the mud, dirt treaded into her soft feathers. Dead. Dead because of his foolishness. Because of what he’d done to her people.

  He wiped away a tear of his own, then looked around. The grounds before the great river had been churned to mud by the passage of his people, but the Tangata were long gone now. They had crossed the river in darkness, following the eager drumbeats of their master’s Voice, driven into a frenzy, into the madness his people had long sought to suppress.

  Commanded by Maya.

  “You’re wondering where your beloved Old One has gone?” Adonis looked at the human sharply as she spoke, eyes narrowing, but Maisie’s gaze was also on the river. “Afraid I have some bad news for you,” she continued. “She’s ditched you bud. Gone off with that army you helped her win.” She looked at him then, and he saw the accusation in her eyes. “You know, the thousands of Tangatan villagers and Anaheran slaves you recruited. Pretty sure they’ll make short work of anyone standing in their way on the other side.” She shrugged. “On the bright side, they were all in such a frenzy when they left, they seemed to forget all about little old me.”

  The queen, Adonis thought, reaching out to Speak without thinking, the half-blood. Maya fears her.

  He trailed off when the human did not react, then belatedly remembered Maisie could not hear his Voice. Adonis cursed softly to himself. How could so many of his brethren stand to bond with these coarse creatures, when they could not even communicate with one another. His eyes fell again on the knife, wondering…

  “I know, I know,” the human mused, seeming to notice the direction of his stare. “I really should kill you. Only, I’m pretty sure you’re my only hope of reaching civilisation.” She gestured at her leg, and while the human stood now without aid, when she took a step, it was clear she couldn’t put much weight on the injured limb. “I’m not in any condition to walk unaided. Looks like you’re pretty beaten up yourself. Must have really pissed off that Old One of yours. Still, I’m hoping you’re a faster healer than this old body of mine.”

  She hesitated, looking at Adonis as though waiting for something. He nodded hesitantly, and she cracked a smile.

  “So you can understand me. I was beginning to think I was raving to myself.”

  Adonis offered a scowl, then ignoring her, he pressed his hands to the ground and forced himself up. Agony slice through his left leg, the torn muscles screaming their outrage. Gritting his teeth, Adonis fought the pain, until finally he found himself standing. He looked at Maisie, teeth bared to show his strength, though in truth he wasn’t in any better shape than the human.

  At least the rain had ceased during the night and the morning fog was lifting, revealing the broad expanse of water—and in the distance, the flames of Maya’s conquest.

  The burning ships had long since sunk beneath the brown surface, but on the far distant banks, something else was aflame. A building, or perhaps an entire town, had already fallen to the fury of Maya’s rage.

  Even after her rejection, Adonis’s heart lurched at the thought of
his mate out there alone, carrying his children without him…

  “I know.” He flinched as Maisie spoke into the silence. “Sucks to be rejected, doesn’t it? Let’s face it though, she was out of your league bud. Made the same mistake myself once, if it makes you feel any better. What is it about monarchs and all that bloodline business?”

  Adonis clenched his jaw and flicked the human a look. Already her coarse voice was grating on him, but there was little he could do about it. If only she could at least Hear, he might make her understand her crudeness. Once he recovered his strength, he would be able to influence her emotions to a point, but for now he did not even have the energy for that.

  Beside him, Maisie sighed. “I know, I’m talking too much.” Adonis looked at her sharply, as her words reflected his own thoughts. “I don’t…normally. Haven’t in a long time. Part of being a spy, all that going unnoticed and whatnot.” She chuckled. “I guess I’m…reverting. It’s the fear, you know? Haven’t been this helpless since…well that’s another story.” She glanced at the fallen Anahera. “She was going to be my ticket out of here, once we figured out how to rescue the fledgelings. But that Old One of yours…” She shuddered visibly. “She’s insane, you know? Surely you know that?”

  The human fell silent then, though her eyes remained unnervingly fixed upon Adonis, as though waiting for a response. As if he could. He bared his teeth at her words. Despite his fall, he remained loyal to Maya’s cause, to the destruction of humanity, the elevation of his people above all others…didn’t he?

  Maisie’s eyes drifted past Adonis, to the distant burning. “She’ll destroy them all, you know,” she whispered finally. “Humanity, the Anahera…even your Tangata. That thing, she doesn’t care about any of us. You know that, right? Surely you have to see it.”

  Something deep in Adonis’s soul responded to the human’s words. Instinctively he reached for the warmth of Maya’s mind, seeking reassurance from her presence, that the path she had set them on was righteous…

  …and found only silence. Only emptiness. With her departure across the river, Maya’s mind no longer touched him, no longer spoke to his consciousness.

  No longer influenced him.

  In that moment, Adonis finally saw the last months for what they had been. Saw the grief of his fellow Tangata as they slaughtered their human partners in New Nihelm, helpless to resist Maya’s commands. Saw again his brothers and sisters lying in the snow, the dead face of a child staring at him in accusation. He witnessed the conquest of the Anaheran city, heard the pain of the fledgeling as she fought against him, saw the anguish in the eyes of Farhan as he bowed before the Old One, and Nyriah’s pain at her son’s death.

  And through it all, he recalled the pressure of Maya’s Voice on his mind, her silent whisperings, her influence upon his people—and upon himself.

  Finally he turned to Maisie, and nodded.

  A smile touched the human’s face. “Then what are we going to do about it?”

  19

  The Fugitive

  Erika awoke with a start, aware that darkness had claimed the world. For a moment she thought she was back in the hold of the ship, that the flames, their escape, even the queen’s true identity, had all been but a dream.

  Then the darkness resolved into shadows and she felt the weight of the covers atop her, the softness of the mattress beneath. Except…the bed was cold, empty.

  She sat up abruptly, swinging around in search of the Goddess. She had been right about the darkness—sunlight no longer streamed through the blinds. How long had she slept? So much for keeping watch for the enemy. Anyone could have come upon them while they’d been unawares. A chill spread down her spine—they could be creeping up on the house even now, surrounding them with soldiers, or worse, with Tangata.

  Throwing off the covers, Erika swung herself out of the bed and scrambled for her boots. At least she’d left her clothes on, but in the dark the shoes evaded her, until with curse she let them fall and raced to the nearest window. Placing an eye to the blinds, she searched the ground outside, but clouds must have come across the sky as she slept, for there was no moon to light the world outside.

  The sound of a foot scuffing the dirt floor came from behind Erika and she swung around, raising her fist as a matter of habit, though she had not recovered the gauntlet from Cara.

  A soft glow lit the room, but instead of coming from Erika’s hand, it came instead from Cara’s as she ignited the gauntlet. A smile crossed the Goddess’s lips as she raised an eyebrow.

  “Don’t worry, there’s no one out there. I already checked,” she said with laughter in her voice.

  “Oh,” Erika replied, then glanced over the Goddess’s shoulders at her wings. “Are they…”

  Erika trailed off as the smile fell from her friend’s face.

  “No,” Cara said softly. Her wings twitched at the pronouncement, as though they too longed for the freedom of flight. “Another week now, I think…”

  Erika’s stomach twisted at the sadness in her friend’s voice and reaching out, she drew the Anahera into a hug.

  “A week then,” she said, and gently she stroked her hand over the Anahera’s feathers. She knew how sensitive they could be, and the soft murmur from Cara showed her appreciation. “We’re free, Cara, a week is nothing.”

  The Goddess remained silent at first, but finally Erika felt her nod and draw back. “You’re right,” Cara said, looking away. “It’s just…everything. The Old One, my mother, this queen of yours. How do you humans handle so much chaos.”

  “To be fair, this all only started when you appeared, Cara.”

  Cara snorted at that. “All this started when you went digging in things that were best left buried,” she replied, raising the gauntlet. She paused, before reaching up and squeezing her wrist. The artefact gave a hiss as it separated from her hand. Cara held it out with a hesitant smile. “Here, you had better take this. I’d rather not be caught breaking any more of my people’s prohibitions.”

  “Thank you,” Erika said, swallowing back a wave of desire.

  Whatever the Goddess had said in the mountains, the gauntlet’s magic had a hold on her. The rush, the exhilaration she felt when she activated its power, it was addictive. The gauntlet may not be responsible for the terrible things she’d done with it, but there remained a selfish part of her that did not want to see another use it. She slipped it onto her wrist and shivered as its silver threads melded with her flesh.

  Light leapt from the mesh as Erika squeezed her fist, her strength at least partially restored by the earlier meal and sleep. Her stomach gave another rumble though, and she looked beyond Cara to where she’d left the food.

  “Have you eaten?” she asked.

  Cara’s stomach gave an audible growl as a sheepish look crossed her face. “A few of the eggs,” she said, wrinkling her nose. “I wasn’t sure whether it was safe to light a fire,” she added, glancing at the hearth.

  Erika nodded. “It should be now, so long as we keep the windows shuttered. Come, let’s see what we can cook up.”

  An hour later the pair sat back on the earthen floor with a warm bowl of stew in their laps. Inhaling the rich aroma of the broth, Erika began to salivate. But if she was hungry, Cara must have been moments from starvation, for the Goddess was practically inhaling her bowl.

  Chuckling to herself, Erika ate more slowly, taking care not to burn her mouth. It was a shame they had no bread to give the broth substance, but the tubers she’d dug from the vegetable patch with her bare hands helped. The remnants of the salted beef added flavour too, and by the time she was finished Erika felt better than she had in…who knew how long. She hadn’t had a proper meal since leaving the City of the Gods.

  They helped themselves to seconds after the first, then Erika let Cara finish the remnants from the beaten pot. The Anahera needed more sustenance to thrive than the average human, and it was obvious the past weeks had taken their toll on her friend. The flesh had sunken on Car
a’s face, revealing sharp cheekbones. Even the slim muscle of her shoulders and arms had withered. No wonder the queen had beaten her so easily, despite only being half-Anahera.

  Turning her eyes to the gauntlet, Erika studied its shimmering links, feeling its innate warmth. They would both need to rebuild their strength if they were to stand a chance against Amina. This house would not be safe for long, regardless who won the battle for the Illmoor. But where would be safe for them? Gemaho had fallen and all of Flumeer was aligned against them. Perfugia was far and away, impossible to reach without a ship, and besides they too were allies of Amina. The Sovereigns would turn the pair over the moment they appeared on those distant shores.

  “You look worried.”

  Erika’s head jerked up at the interruption. She frowned at the Goddess. Light from the gauntlet bathed Cara’s face, adding a glow to her amber eyes as she leaned closer, as though to inspect Erika. Blinking, Erika considered her words, and struggled to contain a mad bout of laughter.

  “Me, worried? Why would I be worried?” she asked wryly. “I mean, there’s an insane creature and her legion of Tangata hunting us. And the only ally I had left is dead, his entire kingdom burned to the ground.” Her voice grew in pitch as she spoke, tears welling in her eyes as the weight of what they faced fell upon her shoulders. “Then there’s the Flumeeren queen, your half-sister, the woman I served for years, the same woman who killed my father. A woman with the powers of the Anahera and an army at her back, who would love nothing more than to torture me until the end of my days.”

  A tear streaked Erika’s cheek and she turned away from the Goddess, fixing her eyes on the fire. She felt herself a vase that had been heated by the glass blower for too long, filled to bursting, ready to shatter into a thousand pieces at the slightest touch.