Dreams of Fury: Descendants of the Fall Book IV Hodges, Aaron (room on the broom read aloud .TXT) 📖

Baring her teeth, Erika charged through the city after her friend. The Calafe ran with her, Darien drawing alongside her, others moving ahead. With the early hour, the streets were mercifully quiet, and those already outside stepped quickly aside at the sight of the charging Calafe.

Then they were bursting into the courtyard before the city gates. The gates themselves stood barred to the enemy without, though in truth they would make little difference when the Tangata could scale the walls in seconds. The guards on watch snapped to alert at the sight of Erika and her Calafe. She waved urgently to them as she raced across the courtyard, gesturing at the gates.

“Lift the bar!” she bellowed. “By order of the queen!”

Knowing she had no power over these men, Erika neglected to say which queen. Panic showed in the eyes of the Flumeeren men at the sight of a hundred grizzled Calafe charging towards them. Whatever objections they might have had to her command were forgotten as Erika and her followers reached the gate, and the guards belatedly leapt to obey her.

The doors swung open with a soft squeal of old hinges. Erika caught a glance from Darien, the flicker doubt in his eyes, but there was no time for explanations now—even if she had fully understood what was happening. So instead, she darted through the opening, and summoned the power of her gauntlet.

To their credit, the Calafe followed Erika despite her apparent madness, though it was definitely not her imagination this time that several hesitated. She could hardly blame them. Whatever her claim to the throne and the magic she wielded, Erika was still an outsider, yet to fully earn their loyalty.

Open ground stretched beyond the gates. The land around the city had been cleared just days ago in preparation for the siege, to ensure there would be no shelter for the Tangata to come creeping upon the defenders. The sun was just beginning to peek above the distant mountains, its heat washing across the land, lighting up the long grass…

…and the distant ranks of the enemy.

Erika paused to catch her breath as she looked across the mile that separated the city from the Tangatan camp. And in that pause, she caught a distant rumbling, as of a thousand feet pounding the earth, of a hundred voices raised in anger.

Icy fear lodged in Erika’s throat, and she struggled to inhale as she glimpsed the cloud of dust rising from the horizon. Her stomach tied itself in knots and she scanned the sky, seeking, searching…

“There!” Erika shouted, pointing.

Cara plummeted from the air a half mile out, swooping towards the ground, wings snapping wide to slow her moments before she alighted amongst the long grass. Fist aglow with power, Erika set off at a sprint, though her lungs were already burning from their headlong race through the city. As Darien and the other Calafe glimpsed Cara, they chased after her, impressing Erika with their bravery.

Blood pounded in Erika’s ears as she ran and she scanned the long grass ahead, searching, praying, hoping. It grew higher as they drew farther from the capital, untamed but for the few lines that were Flumeer’s roads. Surely they must be somewhere…

Erika’s heart lurched as a figure burst from the grass ahead, brown eyes wide, face panicked as she glanced back, urging others behind her to hurry.

Maisie, the Gemaho spy.

Such was Erika’s shock, she almost staggered to a stop right there. Maisie was meant to be dead, fallen in the Mountains of the Gods. How many more of her former companions were destined to rise from the grave this week?

Shaking herself, she leapt forward. Maisie’s eyes widened as she glanced towards the city and finally noticed Erika and her Calafe, shock showing in her face, though it turned quickly to relief.

“Erika!” her cry sounded above the distant pounding. Only…that pounding was no longer so distant. “They’re coming!”

Erika hardly heard the spy’s words, as suddenly more figures were bursting from long grass in front of her. Gasps came from around Erika, then the Calafe were stumbling over themselves to stop, staring open mouthed as the tiny Anahera darted amongst them, adolescent wings flapping uselessly as they struggled to keep pace with the human they followed.

Several of the Calafe reached belatedly for their weapons—the Anahera had sided with the enemy after all—but these were quickly lowered again when they saw the terror in the eyes of the youths.

Only then did Erika and her people return their attention to the distant rumbling, to the pounding on the air, the vibrations of a rage so terrible Erika swore she could sense what Cara had never quite been able to describe in words.

The Tangata were coming.

“Calafe, on me!” Erika screamed, lifting her fist to ignite the light of the gauntlet.

The sight of her magic steadied their line as Darien fell in at her side. Maisie had vanished after the fledgelings. She was no warrior, and would be needed to shepherd the young to safety. That left Erika and her Calafe to deal with the enemy.

One hundred Calafe warriors and their mad queen.

Against a Tangatan horde ten times their number.

“Form up around me, weapons to the fore!” Erika bellowed, doing her best impression of Romaine when she had seen him commanding the Perfugian recruits.

The last of the fledgelings passed between the Calafe ranks as her followers pressed together, and Erika risked a glance over her shoulder. The gates were barely in sight, half a mile off at least. She gritted her teeth.

“Controlled retreat, weapons to the enemy!” she called.

Darien nodded alongside her, and though the Calafe were not trained soldiers, they began to withdraw, eyes never leaving the direction of the enemy. It seemed to Erika that they held a collective breath, waiting for the first of the enemy to emerge from the grass, to leap upon their line.

A shadow on the horizon drew her eyes to the sky, and her heart twisted as she