The Aether of Night

by Sanderson, Brandon

  The Forgotten completely ignored the blow, and Raeth cursed, whipping his sword free and raising the shield to block again. The sounds of men grunting and weapons striking rang around him. Darkness hissed from the Forgotten’s chest, but it continued to attack, as if ignorant—or just uncaring—of its wound.

  Raeth was forced back a few steps as he fought defensively. Fortunately, the creature didn’t seem extraordinarily skilled—of course, if wounds didn’t matter to it, then it didn’t need to be a master swordsman.

  Just like the High Aedin, Raeth realized with a detached portion of his mind. This creature relies on endurance, not skill. If there was a connection, Raeth didn’t have time to ponder it. He pushed his shield to the side, throwing the Forgotten’s blow wide, then snapped his sword forward to take the creature in the neck. Its dark head hissed free, and the body stumbled, then collapsed to the ground, smoke leaking from its neck.

  Raeth stood, puffing in the cold evening air as the battle continued before him. His honor guard was holding its line, but did so with difficulty. Often, two or three men would have to focus on a single Forgotten to bring it down. As if they didn’t already have the number advantage… .

  Raeth threw himself forward, back into the battle, his feet slipping on the packed snow. To his far right Darro fought alone—the other fighters knew to give Amberite High Aedin a wide berth to let them take advantage of their massive weapons. Darro, however, was far less effective than he could have been. He fought defensively, something he obviously wasn’t used to doing. His massive armor made it difficult for him to do much more than swing in wide attacks and keep his opponents at bay—a strategy that didn’t let him do much damage.

  Raeth’s attention quickly turned from Darro to self-preservation as he engaged another Forgotten. He took on this one with the aid of an Aedin soldier armed with an eagle’s claw for a hand. The Aedin took a gash to the side before the dark warrior fell, and had to retreat for Sending to Vae Annitor.

  He fought on, sometimes with others, sometimes alone. Everywhere he turned, there were enemies. They pressed continually on the Imperium’s line, giving them no room to breath or pause.

  No wonder they’ve had so much difficulty, Raeth thought, already tired from the short time of fighting. On the far side of the battlefield, he could see the Forgotten straining the Imperium line. Fortunately, a group of reserves in Mahallen head-dresses joined the battle in time to shore the weakening line.

  Committing reserves already, Raeth thought with discomfort. This isn’t good. The battle was looking to be an even quicker disaster than previous ones. The men were tired and disheartened—only the Forgotten tendency not to pursue retreating forces had let them survive this long.

  We need a new strategy. But, if I get involved, they might gain an advantage by seeing through my eyes.

  Raeth stood for a moment, the battle crashing around him, men falling far too often, Forgotten falling far too infrequently.

  Raeth, he realized, what would it matter if they see through your eyes? We’re losing anyway.

  “Darro!” Raeth snapped, drawing his brother’s attention. The massive suit of a man turned slightly, letting the soldiers to his sides move in and fill his gap in the line.

  Raeth motioned Darro toward him with an urgent gesture, pulling back from the fighting slightly. As Darro approached, Raeth then turned to his honor guard. Several of the men stood waiting, watching their companions for signs of weakness, ready to jump in and take up the fight should a man fall.

  “You two,” Raeth snapped, waving the men toward him.

  “Yes, sir?” the soldiers asked. Both were Aedin, their steel breastplates complimenting their Amberite swords. Beside Raeth, the ground shook slightly as several thumping footsteps announced Darro’s arrival.

  “I want you to go with my brother,” Raeth said, pointing at Darro. “Stand at his sides and protect him with your shields. Don’t worry about attacking—fight defensively. Whatever you do, don’t let any Forgotten blades get through to him.”

  The soldiers stood uncertainly—it was odd enough that Darro fought so close to regular soldiers. High Aedin usually fought in their own, sequestered ranks. Raeth ignored the soldiers’ looks of discomfort, instead turning to his massive brother.

  “Darro,” Raeth said. “Don’t worry about defense—let these soldiers protect you. Just kill as many of those things as you can.”

  Darro smiled from within his suit’s Amberite chest. “All right,” came his reverberating reply. He turned and began to clomp back toward the battle, the two soldiers following obediently.

  Raeth took a deep breath and prepared to join them. An urgent voice interrupted him, however.

  “My Lord Hern!” a wounded soldier said, dashing across the dirtied snow toward him.

  Raeth paused. “What?”

  “The eastern flank, my lord,” the man said, gesturing. Raeth looked up, toward the eastern slope, where he could barely make out a group of dark warriors moving toward the extreme edge of the battle line.

  Why is he coming to me? Raeth asked as the soldier stumbled toward him. The War Counsel will take care of it. Or would they? Raeth cursed quietly.

  “Reserves?” he asked.

  “Committed,” a voice said from behind him. Taenen, looking harried with a cut on his cheek, was approaching, a worried look in his eye.

  “Are there any of those Mahallens left?” Raeth asked.

  Taenen shook his head, his thin hair blowing almost like feathers in the frigid wind.

  Raeth cursed quietly. Then his eyes fell on a group of men standing quietly at the back of the Imperium line—a proud group, wearing bright red cloaks.

  “It won’t work, my lord,” Taenen said quietly. “The War Counsel already ordered them forward, but they refuse to budge.”

  “First we couldn’t keep them out of the fighting, now we can’t get them into it,” Raeth growled.

  “I thought you didn’t trust them to fight, my lord,” Taenen said.

  “I don’t trust them to form the core of our defense,” Raeth replied, scanning the battlefield. They didn’t have much time—if the group of Forgotten rounded their forces, the men on the eastern flank would be in serious trouble. “However, right now any sword—even an untrained one—will help.”

  Taenen shook his head. “They’d never arrive in time, even if they were willing to go. We’ve lost the opportunity.”

  Raeth frowned. Taenen’s words held disappointing truth. However, then Raeth noticed something else—another group standing just a few feet away—and he smiled to himself, a plan forming. It wouldn’t be very nice, but everyone thought he was Hern. He should probably try to act the part every once in a while.

  #

  “You have your orders,” Raeth said. “Get moving.”

  The High Aedin men stood with folded arms, staring at Raeth defiantly. There were around three thousand of them in the block, mostly from predominant families. Many of them held political and social standing above even the members of the War Counsel—and they obviously didn’t like the idea of taking orders now that they’d realized their lives were in danger.

  “Will you ignore your nation?” Raeth demanded with a bellowing voice. The wind was blowing loudly—a good thing. It kept the men in the front of the group from hearing the cries of surprise that were coming from the back of their ranks. “Will you ignore your emperor?” Raeth continued, trying to keep their attention.

  “This battle is lost, Emperor Hern,” a man near the front of the crowd said. “The call for retreat will come soon. There’s no reason for us to waste our effort.”

  “This battle isn’t over until the War Counsel says it is,” Raeth snapped. “You had no problem fighting when the battles were easy, but those battles didn’t matter. Now that the Imperium is actually in danger, you’ll stand like traitors and let it be destroyed?”

  His voice rang on the wind, and he was surprised to see guilt in the eyes of a good number of the men. Th
e emotion, however, soon turned to confusion as the ruckus near the back of the group grew louder. Men began to turn and saw, with surprise, dozens of white streaks rising from their ranks and shooting through the air. Most of them stood with stunned shock as the Vo-Dari touched them, dissolving their bodies into light. Only a couple of them men thought to turn to the side, tracing the lines of light to their destination—a patch of ground directly in front of the Forgotten flanking force.

  Angry eyes turned toward Raeth as some of the High Aedin belatedly began to dodge away from the Vo-Dari.

  “You will go!” Raeth yelled at the group, a lull in the wind allowing his voice to carry over the group. “Many of your number are already there. If you run now, you’ll be abandoning them to slaughter. What of responsibility? What of Duty?”

  The Aedin catch-word made many of the men pause.

  “Think of our Ancestors, whose valiance forged this nation. You are High Aedin, the pride of the Imperium. Don’t sully your lines with cowardice. Courage can only exist where there is danger!”

  Dozens of other lines shot into the air. The army maintained a force of nearly a hundred Vo-Dari for Sending wounded to Vae Annitor and in case of a retreat. The fleet of white robes moved through the High Aedin, catching most of them as they pondered Raeth’s words. A few moments later, only the ones seriously interested in dodging were left.

  Raeth heard a muffled chuckle behind him. “That was well done, my lord,” Taenen said.

  Raeth shrugged, turning back toward the fighting. “I just had to keep them busy long enough for the Vo-Dari to touch them. That should hold the eastern flank for a little while at least. How’s my brother doing?”

  Taenen gestured toward the battlefield, where Raeth could make out a twinkling bit of red amongst the warriors.

  “I don’t what has changed, my lord,” Taenen said, “but your brother inflicting incredible amounts of damage. I think this is the first time I’ve seen an Amberite bond do any good against the creatures.”

  “I assigned a couple of soldiers to defend him,” Raeth mumbled, studying the battlefield. Taenen was right—Darro was fighting very well. He swung a massive sword the size of a grown man, and dozens of smoking Forgotten corpses littered the ground around him. The Imperium line close to Darro was holding far more solidly the rest of the battle front.

  “Why would that matter?” Taenen asked.

  “The Forgotten and the High Aedin fight the same way, general,” Raeth explained. “They both take no heed for their own wounds, instead focusing on hurting their enemy. When the two groups fight each other, the Forgotten win because there’s more of them. If the Amberite bonds fight defensively, the Forgotten also win because Amberite High Aedin don’t know how to defend themselves. However, if we can just keep the Amberite Bonds protected… .”

  Taenen nodded understandingly. “We’ll have to use that—”

  Yelling sounded suddenly a short distance away, and Raeth turned to see dark forms overwhelming a section of the Imperium line just a few feet from him. “Twins!” Raeth cursed, dashing forward, Taenen at his side.

  Raeth and Taenen crashed into the breech, along with the few men that could break away from other sections. Fighting became rote to Raeth as he and Taenen battled, dropping Forgotten after Forgotten. The general fought well—much better than Raeth. He used his claw like a second sword, ripping off Forgotten faces, sending them stumbling away, smoke hissing from numerous wounds. However, there were always more creatures to take the place of every one they felled. Raeth soon felt his muscles growing fatigued—his training from years before might have returned, but he no longer had the endurance. It was only a matter of time.

  “Lord Hern!” Taenen cried in alarm, pointing to the side.

  Raeth spun barely in time to block a Forgotten blow with his shield. The field swarmed with dark forms—there was barely a semblance of a line any more. Raeth tried to block the creature’s backhand, but a second Forgotten attacked from the other side, hurling itself at Raeth with mindless fury.

  Raeth yelled in pain as his maladroit parry earned him a twisted wrist. The second Forgotten crashed right into him, tossing Raeth to the snowy ground, tearing his shield from his grip. Cool, muddy red slush splashed against Raeth’s cheek as his head slammed against a patch of ice.

  Raeth’s vision fuzzed, pain snapping through his head and down his spine. He rolled, trying to clear his vision as a dark form loomed over him. Sight still fizzy, Raeth threw his arm out to parry. Halfway through the swing, he realized his hand was empty. Somewhere during the fall he’d dropped his sword.

  His vision cleared just enough to see the Forgotten’s own weapon drop. It looks so human, Raeth thought, incongruously. It was close enough that he could see its dark features—it even wore clothing. Its eyes, however, were dark. Dead. And they wanted him to join them.

  Raeth screamed, his Aether surging. Dark, musty Amberite exploded from his fist, forming into a sword as he completed his swing. His sword hit that of the Forgotten.

  Immediately, Raeth felt a powerful force press against him. The battlefield disappeared for just a moment, his mind overwhelmed by the strange pressure pushing against him—as if it were a fist constricted around his very soul. And so, for lack of anything else to do, Raeth pushed back.

  His vision returned with a snap, and the Forgotten exploded before him, vanishing in a wave of dark smoke, like a puff blown from a pipe-smoker’s mouth. Raeth lay, confused, staring up in to the cloudy winter sky. What… ?

  “My lord!” a worried Taenen said, pulling Raeth to his feet. Several men formed around Raeth, pulling him to safety, away from the chaotic battle.

  Raeth cleared his head, ignoring the throbbing from the side of his face. “No,” he ordered, pulling himself free from Taenen’s grip. He dashed toward the first Forgotten he saw, one standing over the bleeding form of a fallen soldier. The creature raised its weapon, but Raeth arrived first. He swung wildly, striking at the creature’s shoulder.

  The feeling was the same—some force pressing against his mind. However, it was weak. Like it was distant. Raeth’s push was even stronger this time. The Forgotten exploded in a spray of dark smoke, Raeth’s Amberite sword trailing a few wisps behind it as he completed his swing.

  “My lord!” Taenen said with surprise. He and the other soldiers nearby stood with amazed looks on their faces. “Your Amberite—it’s changed colors. What did you do?”

  “I don’t know,” Raeth said, looking down at his weapon. “Taenen, begin pulling the men back. If the War Counsel has any sense at all, it will order a retreat any moment now. This battle is lost.”

  “Yes, my lord,” Taenen said, moving to obey the order.

  Raeth continued to stare at his Amberite. Then he looked up. The Imperium lines had broken completely. A short distance away his brother still led a fairly strong resistance, but everywhere else men fought in small, disparate groups.

  Raeth clinched both of his fists, feeling his Aether begin to throb. It pulsed with power—a strength he had never felt before. A strength augmented by whatever that drop of Living Night had done to him.

  Darro was right, Raeth thought with amazement. I was so worried that the drop might give them power over me that I never considered that I might have gained power over them instead.

  His Aether flared, dark Amberite spreading up his arms and across his chest, and Raeth jumped back into the battle, cutting his way toward a group of trapped soldiers.

  #

  Darkness had fallen before the retreat was fully actuated. Raeth stayed until the end, watching groups of Verdant High Aedin step forward to blast the Forgotten with vines, allowing soldiers to disengage and retreat. The Verdant Bonds grimaced with pain as they worked—apparently, touching their Aethers to Forgotten flesh was a painful experience. The creatures chewed through the vines with horrible speed, but the seconds it took them was enough.

  Once again, the Forgotten did not attempt to hunt down the fleeing men and sl
aughter them. As the human forces pulled back, the Forgotten carefully reformed into ranks, as if to begin marching again. However, instead they just stood quietly in the dirty snow, immobile.

  “Why aren’t they moving?” Raeth asked quietly, shivering slightly in the night wind.

  “They don’t march at night, my lord,” Taenen explained. “They just stand there, unless we approach them.”

  Raeth frowned. “That’s right,” he mumbled. “I’d forgotten. Is the withdrawal complete?”

  “Yes, my lord,” Taenen said.

  Raeth turned, looking down from the small hill as hundreds of white streaks rose into the air, shooting south. They would Send all but the most hearty scouts back to Vae Annitor—it was too cold, and the men were too tired, to remain through the night. The wounded would go first, being Sent directly to the healers. All except, of course, for the Bestarin wounded, who would go to have animal skin grafted onto their cuts.

  “The Imperium doesn’t give your people enough praise, general Taenen,” Raeth noted.

  “My lord?” Taenen asked with surprise, looking up from the shivering Shorriken aid who had been giving him battle statistics.

  “The Bestarin Line,” Raeth said, nodding toward Taenen’s chest. The general had taken a serious wound near the end of the battle—it would have incapacitated most men for months, perhaps their entire life. Taenen had simply reported to the Bestarin tent for healing, where a flap of furry skin had been grafted onto his chest, sealing the wound and healing him immediately. He’d been back in the battle before an hour had passed.

  Taenen shrugged. “There are a lot of us, my lord, but there is barely any difference between Bestarin High Aedin and regular Aedin. We have little political power, and our Aether is hardly stunning.”