Wrath of the Forgotten: Descendants of the Fall Book II Hodges, Aaron (simple e reader TXT) 📖

the way ahead, desperate for a glimpse of the island. Surely it couldn’t be far now. Through the surging harbour he thought he caught a flash of rock, but it was difficult to make out, still so far, so far…

Forward!

He kicked out again, sending silent encouragement to his brothers and sisters. They would make it—they were Tangata after all, not some weak humans to fail against the raging of mother earth. The storm might hurl its strength against them, but the Tangata would endure, just as they had for centuries.

Roaring against the swirling clouds above, Adonis fought on, and was finally rewarded with a view of the island. Sheer cliffs rose from the seas ahead, stretching high above, a small ledge of shore beckoning them on.

Still so far, though. They probably should have waited out the storm, Adonis knew. The Matriarch’s need was urgent, but while he and his warrior pairs could survive the crossing, they needed their strength for what lay ahead. Adonis had not forgotten what had transpired in the last Birthing Ground they had uncovered. The unbridled rage of the Old Ones had been terrifying to behold. Whatever the Matriarch said, he could not dismiss his reservations about her plan.

The Old Ones were not Tangata, not as they had been since The Fall. They were something else, something that might save his species—or perhaps might doom them all.

Exhaustion weighed heavily on Adonis by the time he finally pulled himself ashore, the pain of endless hours spent on the move. He had pushed his brethren hard to reach this remote outpost, travelling day and night at a pace that would have broken lesser creatures. But Adonis was of the third generation, and those warrior pairs he had chosen were of the fourth. They relished the challenge.

It pained him to learn this Birthing Ground had been here all along, hidden in the Tangata’s own territory. Their plight would have ended long ago had they uncovered the Old Ones sooner.

But he was getting ahead of himself. Despite the Matriarch’s hopes and his own fears, it was unlikely anything remained of this place. The Birthing Ground might have gone undiscovered all these years, but that did not mean the Old Ones slumbered here too. The ones they had woken in northern Calafe could have been the last…

Despite his orders, Adonis felt himself hoping that was true.

One by one, his warrior pairs emerged from the waters. Adonis had lost his own partner years ago, but had resisted swearing himself to an assignment. The thought of spending so much time amongst humans made his skin crawl. The creatures were loud and undisciplined, and the images he’d glimpsed in the mind of Lukys only added to his distaste. Unfortunately, the Matriarch would not tolerate his disobedience much longer, despite his parentage.

Not unless he found another way.

In silence, he and his followers left the sandy shores. Each of his five pairs carried a great hammer between them—they would need the tools should they find the entrance sealed. Behind them, the ocean continued to rage, the crack of thunder echoing from the nearby cliffs. Sand gave way to gravel beneath their feet and ahead, Adonis’s sharpened vision spotted a goat track leading up between the escarpments.

Adonis picked up his pace, making for the track. He did not know where on the island they would find the entrance to the Birthing Ground, but the view from up high would give them somewhere to start.

The others followed, their inner voices silenced. This was holy ground, one of the hidden sites from which their ancestors were said to have first emerged. He could sense their doubts. Some had been with him when they’d freed the Old Ones before. They had witnessed the madness in the eyes of those creatures, had experienced the same feeling of powerlessness as their fellows were slaughtered. Against the Old Ones, his people might as well have been humans, for all their powers aided them.

Adonis slowed as they reached the top of the track, taking a moment to recover his breath as he scanned the area atop the cliffs. Before him the ground flattened out into a plateau of unnaturally smooth stone—a sure sign that one of the ancient sites had once occupied this island. The hairs on the back of Adonis’s neck tingled at the sight. There could be no doubt now.

Spread out, he ordered as the others joined him. Seek the entrance.

They moved quickly, fanning out across the plateau, scanning the stone for some clue of an entrance into hidden tunnels. It didn’t take them long.

Here.

Adonis joined the pair that had called the discovery. Dirt and moss had built up through the years, but the harsh winds blowing across the island had kept them from completely covering the unnatural rock. At first glance the spot where the two stood looked no different from the rest of the plateau, but a closer inspection revealed there was a slight mound here, circular in shape.

Crouching, Adonis scraped aside the moss for a better look at the rock beneath. It was rougher than the rest of the plateau, and the rain and wind had carved rivulets across the surface. He looked at the Tangata who held the hammers.

Break it.

They set to the task, the harsh crash of steel against stone ringing across the plateau. Adonis left them to their work and wandered back to the clifftops. No evidence remained of what had been here before The Fall and his people had not visited this place before. The Tangata might be capable of defeating the waters, but they did not needlessly hurl themselves into the murky depths either.

Beyond the shores of the island, the storm was finally breaking. It had come upon them quickly and now seemed intent on departing with the same speed. The winds would linger—they rarely ceased on this part of the coast. It made him wonder why the humans had once built a city here, of all places.

Standing atop the high cliffs, Adonis looked