Wrath of the Forgotten: Descendants of the Fall Book II, Hodges, Aaron [top 10 non fiction books of all time txt] 📗

But it was already too late, as Adonis bowed his head and left the chamber. Alone before the Matriarch, he swallowed as her eyes fixed back on him.

We do as we must, human, she spoke into his mind.

You can’t control them, Lukys replied, so desperate now that he cast the thought at her, and all the memories of bloodshed and death he had taken from that dark place beneath the earth. They’ll kill us all.

The Matriarch remained unbending. So be it, came her reply. Better the world burn than have my children go whimpering into extinction.

Lukys shook his head, wishing he could somehow convince this strange creature, but already she seemed to have dismissed him. Then movement came from alongside him. He looked around in time to see Sophia approaching. He’d almost forgotten she was there.

Matriarch? she murmured, her head bowing slightly in deferment.

The Matriarch started at her words, seemingly surprised at her interference. Yes, my child?

I wish to claim my assignment.

The Matriarch’s frown deepened and the pale eyes looked Sophia up and down. You are of the fifth generation? She paused, only going on when Sophia nodded. You are still young, child. There may be time for you yet.

My partner was slain, Sophia replied. Suddenly her grey eyes fixed on Lukys. His blood ran cold as she continued: Slain by this human.

Blood pulsed in his ears and he longed to flee. But there was nowhere for him to run, nowhere he could escape Sophia’s gaze. So instead he stood fixed in place, knees trembling, and waited for his fate to be decided.

Ahhh, the Matriarch murmured, joining Sophia now. Are you sure, my child?

Yes, Sophia replied, turning again to Lukys. The human slew many of my generation. He will be a good assignment.

There was a long pause before the Matriarch spoke again, and all the while her eyes watched Lukys. He could feel them drilling into his soul, the touch of her mind upon his, and finally he was forced to look away.

Very well, my child, the Matriarch said finally. He is yours—though beware, the Anahera may yet come for him.

Then we will deal with her, Sophia replied, bowing her head deferentially. Thank you, Matriarch.

Lukys swallowed as footsteps approached. Fear and anger warred within him as Sophia moved forward. He would not be made a slave, would not surrender to these creatures, his will crushed so he only served them. Silently he steeled himself.

Then his eyes met Sophia’s, and he felt something brush against his mind. His emotions faded as she stepped up before him, grey eyes piercing him just as the Matriarch’s had. The resolve he’d felt just moments before drained away like a plug had been pulled in his core. And her voice whispered in his mind.

Now you truly are mine, Lukys.

11

The Fallen

Standing atop the river terrace, Romaine let out a long breath as he looked across at the Illmoor Fortress. Curtain walls of stark granite swept out from the cliffs, the blocks seeming more an extension of the mountains themselves than a manmade structure. Watch towers marked the ramparts at intervals, their twisted rooftops flying the yellow of Gemaho.

Their approach would have been noted days ago and now hundreds of soldiers stood atop those walls, armour shining in the noon sun. Looking on the men and women who opposed them, Romaine was reminded again of the madness of it all, that humanity should war upon itself while the Tangata still threatened their very existence. Not that he would be involved in much of the fighting. He had been training in the sword with Lorene and his injuries were healing well, but he would be little use in a pitched battle.

Pushing the thought aside, Romaine continued his appraisal of the enemy fortress. Away to the right, the waters of the Illmoor River had narrowed until they were just half a mile wide. The currents rushed between the twisted peaks of the Mountains of the Gods—and beneath the broad walls of the fortress. An incredible feat of engineering had erected a bridge of stone above the rushing waters as an extension of the curtain walls. Iron grates between the support pillars prevented the passage of ship or swimmers, and could be raised during storms or to allow debris to be removed. Only in the centre of the river were ships allowed to pass through a giant portcullis—at least during peacetimes.

The walls continued on the southern banks of the river, ensuring none could pass unnoticed into the lands of Gemaho. Other than the water portcullis, the only way through was the land gate—massive doors of heavy oak bolted by steel. Without ships for an aquatic assault, it was there that the queen would launch her attack.

Silently, Romaine turned his gaze to the floodplains before the fortress, where the queen’s army had formed up, shields and spear tips glinting in the noonday sun. Behind the formation, others were hard at work preparing the camp fortifications. Romaine was again impressed by the speed at which they were securing the position. Unlike some of the irregulars he’d fought alongside on the frontier, the Queen’s Guard were professional soldiers, and each knew his role.

Dozens had already paced out a perimeter for the camp and were now directing men with shovels where to prepare the defensive ditch. Others were preparing latrines downwind from the main camp, while still more went about setting the tents and organising the now-empty supply wagons into a second defensive perimeter. All the while, a squadron of archers stood in reserve.

Within an hour the camp would be set. Shaking his head, Romaine spurred his horse down the hill in search of the queen.

He found her amongst the soldiers standing in formation, her banner fluttering overhead, as though daring the Gemaho forces to attack. Sitting on her great destrier, garbed in the scarlet armour of the Flumeeren royalty, Romaine could imagine for a moment how it must have looked when she had led the charge against the Tangata in