Wrath of the Forgotten: Descendants of the Fall Book II by Hodges, Aaron (best romance books of all time txt) 📕

Crossing them, Lukys began to realise New Nihelm was not one island at all, but many, divided by canals that crisscrossed the city. At the edge of each channel, stone foundations were revealed, plunged deep into the mud and hidden by the structures that had been built atop them.

Anger touched Lukys as he was again reminded of the effort the Calafe had put into the construction of their city, only to have it stolen away. He found himself glaring at the creatures they passed in the streets, wishing there was something he could do, some magical way of restoring to Romaine’s people what was rightfully theirs—

Lukys froze as he caught a glimpse of a figure amongst the Tangata gathered around a nearby fruit stall. Frowning, he came to a stop, watching them, aware there was something different about this group. Sophia and the other guards did not immediately realise his absence, and silently he stepped towards the stand. Two males and a female stood perusing the vegetables on display. In another time, he might have wondered at the oddity of the monsters from his nightmares out shopping, but something about the female’s movement had caught his attention.

Struck by a sudden suspicion, Lukys darted forward and reached out to grasp the woman by the shoulder. A belated cry came from behind him as Sophia finally realised his absence, but she was too late. Crying out, the female he’d accosted spun, hands raised in fright, eyes wide.

Eyes of a brilliant sea green.

The woman was human.

7

The Fallen

The Illmoor Fortress was five days ride from Fogmore, though the queen lingered a day in the riverside town to prepare supplies before pushing on. Her Guard rode large destriers bred for war, their iron-shod hooves capable of caving in the skulls of even the most ferocious of the foes. Behind them came the supply wagons, though many would be left in the smaller forts that lined the shores of the Illmoor, restocking them for the coming months of conflict against the Tangata.

Romaine himself rode a smaller mare, for which he was thankful. The destriers might make great warhorses, but their thumping gait would have been agony for his injuries. Even with the smoother strides of the mare, Romaine was aching by the time the sun set on the first day. It was a relief when he finally topped a rise and found the vanguard setting camp on the floodplains below.

Tugging on his reins, he drew the mare to a stop and watched the preparations. Still far from Gemaho, there was little chance of an attack by Nguyen’s soldiers. Indeed, if they were lucky the man might not yet know of their advance.

As for the Tangata…an attack seemed unlikely, but with the Illmoor River less than a mile from their position, nothing could be guaranteed. The soldiers below were certainly taking no chances. There were no trees available for a stockade wall, but a defensive ditch and embankment were already nearing completion.

The thumping of hooves came from below and a moment later a rider topped the rise and approached Romaine.

“Have to admit, those Royal Guards sure are an efficient sort.”

Lorene wore a broad grin on his youthful face as he pulled his mount to a stop alongside Romaine’s. He’d volunteered for the expedition when the queen had asked for scouts to help navigate the journey east. There were no roads or passageways in these parts, and so close to the river it would have been easy for the queen’s forces to become bogged in the marshland. The seemingly solid ground in the open pastures had a habit of sinking beneath the weight of horses, so it paid to have scouts along who knew the territory.

Romaine only grunted and swung from his saddle. He would walk the rest of the way down the hill—his body could use the stretch. Grinning at some unspoken joke, Lorene did the same, and together they started down the hill.

Romaine did his best to keep the pain of his injuries from his face, but it was difficult to ignore the searing that touched his chest with each step. How much longer until he healed? Days, weeks, months? Despair swelled in his throat and he struggled to push it back down. What good was he to anyone, let alone a Goddess, if he couldn’t even walk without pain?

“You think she’s really going to attack the Gemaho?” Lorene asked as they threaded their way down the hillside. There was a path that wound around in a gentler manner, passable for the wagons, but they had opted for the more direct route.

Romaine flicked a glance at the man but said nothing for the moment, keeping his attention focused on the ground beneath his feet. The grassy slope fell steeply to the campsite and they were doing their best to zigzag the horses down. The mare snorted and tugged at her reins but otherwise followed Romaine without question. No doubt she was relieved at the break from his weight upon her back.

“You know, you didn’t need to join us,” Romaine said, skirting the man’s question, then muffled a curse as a patch of earth slid beneath his boot.

These hills had once been covered in forest, much the same as his own homeland across the distant waters, but for the last decade the banks this side of the Illmoor had been progressively burned away. The Flumeeren soldiers had feared the Tangata would use the forests as cover to pass their defensive lines and attack settlements further inland. Now though, the land lay exposed, and many hillsides were slowly crumbling beneath the forces of erosion.

“I know,” Lorene replied with a shrug. “It’s just…it didn’t feel right, staying behind last time. I should have gone with you lot when you went south.”

“If you had, there’d be one more corpse lying in the forests of my homeland.”

“Maybe,” Lorene said, a self-deprecating grin appearing on his lips, “or might be I could have helped. Can’t know now, can we?” His eyes