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

Relieved for an excuse to rest, Romaine sat on the bottom stair. More than a few of the passersby flashed him strange looks as they went about their business, but Romaine ignored them, his attention instead on the approaching scout. There was a sense of controlled urgency about the man. He was puffing by the time he stopped in front of Romaine and his cheeks were a bright red, as though he’d run the entire way. Even so, he still had time to frown as he looked Romaine up and down.

“The medics said you’d be in bed for a week,” Lorene commented.

“Fast healer, lad,” Romaine grunted, though his head was swimming. “Something you came to tell me?”

Lorene hesitated, seeming to doubt himself for a moment. He swallowed, jaw tight. It obviously wasn’t good news. Romaine wondered what fresh agony the world had in store for him.

“It’s Cara…ah, the Goddess,” Lorene croaked. “She’s gone. We think the Archivist took her.”

2

The Fugitive

Erika sat in the front of the sailboat, watching how the mist curled around the bow, how it clung to the swirling waters. The white tendrils hid the night sky, concealed everything but for a sparse foot around them. It also hid them. Just as well—with their pursuers out in force, the fugitives needed every advantage they could get. Even now she could hear the voices on the river, the distant calls of the Flumeeren hunters, seeking their prize.

They would not have her.

It was the second night since she had fled the town of Fogmore, aided by the mysterious Gemaho spy. Her gaze was drawn to where the woman sat at the back of the boat, hand on the tiller. Erika didn’t even know the woman’s name—only that she’d been sent by the King of Gemaho. Why the man would want to help her, Erika couldn’t understand, though…

Her eyes fell to the vessel’s third occupant: the woman lying chained at Erika’s feet. At first glance, Cara might have been mistaken for human. Copper hair hung across her shoulders and the amber eyes that looked out from her narrow face were far from the Tangatan grey. Her clothes were plain, grey and red, borrowed from their Flumeeren hosts.

But even in the darkness, there was one stark difference between Cara and a human, one that marked her as one of the Divine.

Wings.

Swathed in auburn feathers, they sprouted from somewhere near the middle of Cara’s back. At this moment they were furled around the young Goddess and bound in chains for good measure—along with her arms and legs. Thankfully, they seemed to be enough to hold her. Erika didn’t want to find out what the Goddess would do to them if she ever got free.

Shivering, Erika’s gaze returned to the mists, and she found herself wondering what she was doing there. She was an Archivist, a student of history, of the Gods that had vanished after casting down the world. She should be asking Cara questions, seeking answers to the mysteries that had plagued humanity for centuries. Not locking her up, not making her their enemy.

Yet, what choice did she have?

She had lost everything in that disastrous venture south: her reputation, her position in the Flumeeren court, her chance to stand side by side with the nobility. All because of General Curtis’s betrayal, because he had sent her Perfugian recruits instead of real soldiers. The queen had promised penance should she fail. Erika wasn’t about to allow the general’s incompetence to cost her life. So when the King of Gemaho had offered her a lifeline, she had grasped it with both hands.

She would do whatever it took to survive.

Even if that meant betraying a God.

Erika’s insides twisted and her gaze was drawn back to Cara. She winced as their eyes met and she saw the rage flickering in those amber depths. That look promised revenge. Instinctively, Erika found herself flexing her right hand, on which she wore a gauntlet crafted from impossibly fine wires of an unknown metal. It had fused to her very flesh when she’d first put it on and she had been unable to remove it since.

Light blossomed around her knuckles as she clenched the fist. The gauntlet held incredible magic, power enough to strike down the Gods themselves. It was with this that she had captured Cara, taking the Goddess by surprise. A violent, unholy act.

Just a few weeks ago, it would have been unthinkable to Erika. Yet she had done it with hardly a thought. Now she sat sailing through the night, fleeing the kingdom that had supported her for over a decade, intent on delivering the Goddess into the hands of their enemies. Never mind that the Gemaho King had tried to take her life just a few weeks before, or that Cara had rescued her from the Tangata, that she had been Erika’s friend.

A shudder racked her and she allowed her hand to relax. The light died and she found herself looking into Cara’s eyes again. Now she saw the pain beneath the Goddess’s anger. All of Erika’s excuses, all her justifications, withered beneath that look.

Finally she looked away, unable to meet the accusation in her former friend’s eyes. If the Goddess wanted to live amongst humans, it was time she was taught this lesson. It was one Erika had learnt well as a child. Don’t trust, don’t allow others to get close. To do so was to invite betrayal. Others were only worth as much as they could benefit you.

And Cara…well, she was the key to a secret world, to powers unknown, ones even greater than the gauntlet. First though, they had to escape the lands of Flumeer.

“Get down,” a voice hissed from the back of the boat.

Immediately, Erika slipped from the bench and crouched alongside Cara. Behind, her companion ducked beneath the gunwale. In the darkness, Erika could see little of the woman from Gemaho. Whispers carried through the night and Erika squinted, trying to pierce