Wrath of the Forgotten: Descendants of the Fall Book II Read online

  Wrath of the Forgotten

  Descendants of the Fall Book II

  Aaron Hodges

  Contents

  About the Author

  The Kingdoms of Humanity

  Prologue

  1. The Fallen

  2. The Fugitive

  3. The Soldier

  4. The Fugitive

  5. The Fallen

  6. The Soldier

  7. The Fallen

  8. The Soldier

  9. The Fugitive

  10. The Soldier

  11. The Fallen

  12. The Soldier

  13. The Fugitive

  14. The Fallen

  15. The Soldier

  16. The Fugitive

  17. The Tangata

  18. The Fugitive

  19. The Fallen

  20. The Soldier

  21. The Fallen

  22. The Soldier

  23. The Tangata

  24. The Fugitive

  25. The Soldier

  26. The Fallen

  27. The Tangata

  28. The Soldier

  29. The Fugitive

  30. The Soldier

  31. The Fallen

  32. The Soldier

  33. The Fugitive

  Epilogue

  Note from the Author

  Oathbreaker

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  The Evolution Gene

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Also by Aaron Hodges

  Edited by Genevieve Lerner

  Proofread by Sara Houston

  Illustration by Eva Urbanikova

  Map by Michael Hodges

  Copyright © June 2020 Aaron Hodges.

  First Edition. All Rights Reserved.

  ISBN: 978-0-9951365-33

  About the Author

  Aaron Hodges was born in 1989 in the small town of Whakatane, New Zealand. He studied for five years at the University of Auckland, completing a Bachelors of Science in Biology and Geography, and a Masters of Environmental Engineering. After working as an environmental consultant for two years, he grew tired of office work and decided to quit his job in 2014 and see the world. One year later, he published his first novel - Stormwielder.

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  Only in the darkest of times,

  Can we see the light of heroes.

  Thanks to all the essential workers.

  You’re life savers.

  THE KINGDOMS OF HUMANITY

  Prologue

  The Soldier

  Lukys stumbled through the night, his feet catching on unseen obstructions, eyes straining to pierce the gloom. His chest ached from the blow he’d taken just hours earlier and the chainmail vest weighed heavily on his shoulders, but he kept on. He had no choice. Cords bound his hands tight behind his back, and another was looped around his neck, constricting whenever he slowed, his captors urging him on. Grunts came from behind as his fellow captive, Dale, struggled to keep pace.

  Briefly, light shone from overhead and Lukys’s eyes were drawn to a gap in the canopy. A sliver of the moon appeared between the branches. Then it was gone, the forest returning to darkness—but not before he glimpsed the movement all around them. Their captors. The Tangata.

  Lukys shuddered at being surrounded by the creatures. Cruel and inhuman, they had no problem seeing in the dark. It was one of their many powers, stolen from the Gods in ages past and inherited down through the generations. For decades the Tangata had waged war against humanity, destroying all who came against them. And now he was their prisoner.

  He still struggled to understand how it had come to pass. He’d arrived on the frontier with his fellow Perfugians, thinking he was to become a soldier. Reality had crushed those aspirations. Untrained and terrified, the Perfugian recruits had been ordered into battle that first day. Against the superhuman strength of the Tangata, they’d never stood a chance.

  Yet Lukys had survived. Survived because of Romaine, the ferocious warrior of Calafe. Even amongst other soldiers, the man was an enigma. Wielding a great battle axe, he had stood alone against one of the creatures, and won. Lukys had never heard of such a feat—the professors of his academy learning asserted that just one Tangata possessed the strength of three human soldiers.

  After the battle, Lukys had sought out the warrior and begged for his help. Reluctantly, Romaine had agreed to train him—and eventually over half the surviving Perfugian recruits had joined them. They’d fought together, learned together, had almost thought themselves true soldiers.

  Until this disastrous expedition. Now his fellow Perfugians were dead, all except he and Dale. The two of them should have been slaughtered as well, cut down on the banks of the Illmoor River, but something had given the creatures pause. Something had changed their minds.

  Something about Lukys.

  A tremor slid down Lukys’s spine as his eyes fixed on the creature that led them. Long, curly brown hair suggested it was one of the females of the species, though they were just as strong as the males. Lukys had no doubt she could tear him in half should the desire take her. She had not said a word through the night. The Tangata did not speak. Or so they’d thought…

  Move…further east…catch them…

  Around him, the forest was silent, the movements of the Tangata abnormally quiet. But in Lukys’s mind…words whispered, mixing and churning against one another like the rumblings of a packed crowd. Unintelligible, yet unmistakable for what they were:

  The thoughts of the Tangata.

  Lukys didn’t know why he could hear them—he hadn’t even recognised the voices for what they were until that confrontation on the banks of Illmoor. Not until one of the creatures had spoken directly into his mind.

  Who are you?

  Ice filled Lukys’s belly at the memory. The Tangata had seemed as confused as Lukys about his ability. That alone had saved them. But how long could this deferment of their execution last? How long before the beasts grew tired of their human captors, and put them down? Lukys had no illusions as to what awaited them.

  Unless they could escape. Cautiously, he glanced back, seeking out Dale in the darkness. Until recently the two had been rivals, but they’d formed a mutual respect during this fateful expedition. Fighting together, they had slain several of the Tangata, in itself a miracle. Perhaps they could—

  A flicker of moonlight sliced through the night, momentarily revealing Dale’s face. Bruises purpled his cheek and had almost swollen his eyes closed, while a trail of blood ran from his mouth. The creatures had beaten them both before discovering Lukys’s talent, but Dale had received the worst of their anger.

  A soft wheezing came from Dale’s throat and with his eyes on the ground, he didn’t notice the attention. Quickly, Lukys returned his gaze to the way ahead, all thoughts of escape fleeing his mind. Dale could barely walk, there was no way they could outrun the Tangata, even if they somehow managed to break free.

  Despair wrapped its thorny tendrils around his heart and began to squeeze. In his mind he heard new whispers, not of the Tangata now but his own, commanding him to give up, to sit down and surrender to his fate.

  Yet he stumbled on, legs burning, chest screaming, driven by some tiny, determined part of him to reach the morning, to survive the night. The Tangata were not immortal; they could be defeated. All Lukys could do was wait, and hope.

  Almost imperceptibly, the light began to grow, the sounds of the night retreating. F
ocused on the rhythm of the march, Lukys didn’t notice at first. Eventually though, he began to make out shapes on the ground before him, tree roots and fallen branches, rocks and the footprints of creatures that walked before him.

  Blinking, he lifted his head and felt a tingle of triumph. The red light of dawn now filtered through the winter forest. The Tangata had kept to the lowlands—that much he knew from the gentle terrain they had traversed—and the canopy was low above their heads, empty branches reaching for them like claws. The sky was clearly visible, though grey clouds stretched out as far as the eye could see.

  Lukys was no woodsman, but there was only one direction the creatures could be taking them—south, towards those unknown regions beyond the broken Agzor Fortress, to the ancestral homeland of the Tangata.

  The thought twisted his bowels into knots. They were passing now through the fallen kingdom of Calafe. Just six months ago, with their armies broken, the last of its people had fled north into Flumeer. Only the Tangata roamed these lands now. But at least they still bore the echoes of that lost civilisation. What would they find in the Tangatan homeland, unknown to humanity for centuries?

  Their captors did not stop with the emergence of the day, and though the light made the going easier, Lukys could feel his final reserves of strength dwindling. The last weeks had taken their toll and now he desperately needed rest. Dale could hardly be any better. Yet still the female who led them continued, her brethren slipping through the forest in their silent manner.

  “How much farther?”

  The words slipped from Lukys in a desperate gasp. Even as he spoke them, he stumbled, his weakened legs tripping on a rock that protruded from the hard ground. With his hands bound he was unable to steady himself, and he slumped to one knee. The rope tightened around his neck, but thankfully the Tangata had stopped at the sound.

  Slowly she turned, and Lukys felt a bolt of fear as solid grey eyes fell upon him. Those eyes were the mark of the Tangata, the only outward difference to a human. Yet they meant everything. In those eyes, Lukys could see his death.

  Not long now, human.

  Lukys’s skin crawled as the voice whispered directly into his mind. The whispers around them remained indistinct, but this creature’s words were crisp, clear. Their presence in his innermost thoughts felt like a violation, and he wondered what else the Tangata might be capable of. Could the monster before him read his mind? Was she doing it even now? He swallowed, staring into those cold eyes, but seeing no signs of emotion.

  Finally he nodded and carefully pulled himself back to his feet. The Tangata regarded him for a long moment, then turned and started off again. A tug on the rope urged Lukys to follow.

  “It’s useless,” a voice gasped from behind him, “I…can’t keep up…sorry, Lukys.”

  “Don’t give up,” Lukys hissed, glancing back at Dale. “We’re almost there.”

  A frown touched his friend’s forehead. “What?” he rasped. “How…do you know?”

  “I…” Lukys hesitated.

  He hadn’t told the other recruit about the whispers. What would Dale think if he discovered Lukys could hear the enemy? It seemed…treacherous, blasphemous even. No, better he keep it a secret for now, until he learnt more about this new ability.

  “They can’t run forever,” he said instead. “Even the Tangata have to rest.”

  Despair shone from Dale’s eyes, but after a long moment, he nodded and lowered his head. Lukys breathed a sigh of relief as the man continued walking. He didn’t know what the creatures had in store for them, but the thought of being left alone with the beasts…it didn’t bear thinking about.

  Lukys stumbled as the rope around his neck suddenly went slack. He looked up, surprised to find that the female Tangata had come to a stop. Her silver eyes were watching him again, and he quickly looked away, unable to hold that eerie gaze. Movement came from nearby as the others emerged from the trees.

  Rest. The voice seemed cold in his mind, like a ghostly breath upon his neck. We will stay here a time.

  He forced himself to meet the female’s gaze. No more words were forthcoming, and after a drawn-out moment, Lukys turned to Dale.

  “I think we’re stopping here.”

  The recruit didn’t wait for confirmation. He slumped to the ground and leaned against a nearby tree trunk, a moan slipping from his mouth. Lukys longed to join him, but instead he turned to inspect their surroundings.

  The forest had thinned here, the canopy opening to grant them a view of the nearby hills. What Lukys saw confirmed his suspicions from the night. They were moving through one of the southern passageways—long, flat valleys that ran for hundreds of miles, so straight that some claimed they’d been carved from the earth by the Gods themselves. There were some in Flumeer as well—Lukys and his fellow Perfugians had taken one on their journey to the frontier. But that passageway had ended some fifty miles from the town of Fogmore, forcing them to climb the foothills to reach their destination.

  There was no sign of an end to this passageway, though. Stark cliffs stretched away into the distance, their tops covered by a scattering of deciduous forest. Standing amidst the grandeur of that landscape, Lukys could understand how some had come to associate them with the Gods. Many were the legends of the Divine beings that had brought about The Fall, that terrible darkness that had almost destroyed humanity centuries ago. The Gods had vanished during that time, retreating into the forbidden mountains, it was said. Never to be seen again.

  Until now. Until the battle for the Illmoor.

  A smile crossed Lukys’s lips as he pictured his friend Cara soaring above the river, wings spread wide, auburn feathers shining in the dying light of day.

  A Goddess, hidden amongst them.

  She had fallen upon the Tangata with vengeance, tearing through their ranks, hurling them aside with wing and fist and boot. More than a few of Lukys’s captors sported bruises from that encounter, and he wondered what they thought of the Divine being that had appeared amongst them. Did the Tangata know what Cara was, what it was they had fought?

  The whispers continued in Lukys’s mind and he tried to focus, to draw sense from the chorus, but the words remained a jumbled puzzle, nonsensical.

  He shook his head, spirits deflating once more. In the end, not even a Goddess had been enough to save them. Cara had been driven back by sheer numbers, and while she’d managed to rescue the Archivist, she could not save them all.

  Dale and Lukys had been left behind.

  His gaze fell to Dale again. Bruised and broken, the man had slipped into a doze. Watching him sleep, Lukys could hardly imagine this was the same arrogant noble born who had mocked Lukys on the journey south from Mildeth. The weeks of strife had changed him—had changed them both. Blood and dirt stained their uniforms to the point where the Perfugian blue was barely recognisable, yet Lukys felt more a soldier now than he ever had north of the River Illmoor.

  A shame those new skills hadn’t mattered, in the end. They had been defeated all the same.

  Come, human.

  Lukys started as their captor’s voice spoke into his mind once more. Swinging around, he was surprised to find the female standing directly behind him. Somehow, he managed not to shrink away.

  “Already?” he hissed softly, struggling to contain his anger. He gestured at Dale. “He can barely stand.”

  The Tangata’s grey eyes flickered toward Dale, then returned to Lukys. He can stay, came her reply.

  “Stay?” Lukys muttered. Suspicion touched him and clenching his fists, he stood his ground. “I won’t let you harm him.”

  The female crooked her head to the side, eyes unchanged, unreadable. The other…will not be harmed, she said finally. You are wanted.

  “Wanted by who?” Lukys asked, his voice trembling despite himself.

  A face burst into Lukys’s mind in response: of himself lying on the shores of the Illmoor, a Tangata raising a blade above his head. In that instant, he sensed this was their leader.
Lukys didn’t need to question further to know who wanted him.

  “What does he want?” he whispered finally.

  A knife appeared in his captor’s hands. He flinched at the sight of it—though of course, she needed no weapon to kill him. Before he could pull away, the blade flashed out, severing the rope that had connected him to Dale. He staggered, but a firm tug on the cord around his neck prevented him from falling. His breath was stolen away as she hauled him back up, bringing his eyes level with hers.

  Come!

  Lukys went.

  1

  The Fallen

  Consciousness came slowly to Romaine. It began as an ember on the forest floor, slowly growing brighter, greater, until suddenly it burst asunder, pressing back the darkness. He fought to stay, but the pull was irresistible, and slowly he was drawn back into the cold, unforgiving light. Back to the pain.

  An ache radiated through his chest as he opened his eyes, revealing a rough wooden ceiling above. He quickly closed them again as a pounding began in his skull and stifled a groan, though none of those aches compared to the searing heat that engulfed his left hand.