The Aether of Night

by Sanderson, Brandon

  D’Naa blinked in shock. “A priest?” she asked. “You? I didn’t know that. So can you do Sendings?”

  Raeth shook his head. “No, those are Vo-Dari, several ranks above me. I was at the bottom—all I did was paint paintings, poorly, and write poetry, poorly.”

  “How did you… ?”

  “End up playing emperor?” Raeth asked. “Darro. It was his idea, and I just kind of fell into it.”

  “And it’s a good thing you did,” D’Naa said, smiling slightly.

  Raeth shrugged. “I don’t know. I think I probably made as poor an emperor as I did a Dari.”

  “You stopped the Forgotten advance,” D’Naa challenged.

  “And failed to see that it would just start over again,” Raeth replied.

  “No one could have foreseen that.”

  “I am emperor,” Raeth said with a shake of his head. “It is my duty to foresee such things. If I had realized that the creatures might come back, perhaps I could have saved all those men who died trying to stop them.”

  “Would you really?” D’Naa asked. “If you had suspected, would you really have stopped fighting?”

  Raeth paused. “No,” he finally admitted. “I wouldn’t have. Like I said, I never really believed that fighting was hopeless.”

  D’Naa fell silent, though she did lean a little closer to him, her eyes sympathetic. “Back in Kavir,” she finally said, “there are a lot of people who gave up hope of defeating the Harrmen.”

  Raeth shook his head. “That won’t work this time, D’Naa. You can’t connect the two. Harrmen you can kill.”

  “All right,” D’Naa finally said. “Then I’ll just ask. Don’t give up. Please.”

  Raeth sighed. “I haven’t given up,” he said quietly. “Not yet. But it’s hard.”

  “You should give up.”

  Raeth’s head snapped up. The comment hadn’t come from D’Naa, and he certainly hadn’t said it. He spun, tracing out the source of the sound.

  A black form hunched in the darkness just inside his room, its lumpish figure obscured by the shadows. It was large, however, bigger than a man, huge, trunk-like legs.

  “Twins!” Raeth cursed, D’Naa hissing in surprise at his side. He could feel the vines on her arm begin writhing suddenly.

  “You can give up,” the shifting lump hissed. Its voice was scratchy and soft, a whisper without tone. “There is a way.”

  A massive wave of green suddenly smashed through Raeth’s glass door, its tendrils reaching for the dark creature. D’Naa stood firmly, dozens of thick Verdant vines extending from her arms.

  Such power, Raeth thought, once again struck by her strength. Few High Aedin could manage the intensity of D’Naa’s Verdant.

  The creature hissed in surprised anger, and dark Night exploded from its body. Arm-like constructions of Night ripped into D’Naa’s Verdant, attacking the vines and tearing them free. D’Naa immediately cried out in pain, her body tensing. She did not release her Verdant, however. She continued to push it forward, fighting the Night, even though her body shook with agony.

  Raeth grabbed hold of her small body, looking down with concern. “D’Naa, stop!” he cried. Then paused.

  Stop? He thought to himself, suddenly feeling guilty. She shows you how to fight. She hasn’t given up.

  Raeth took a deep breath. If the creatures could control Night, then so could he. He could feel it around him, pooling in the shadowed corners, a substance that couldn’t be seen but could be felt. A power. He drew upon it, focusing through his Aether, pulling with untested muscles.

  The Night resisted his tuggings, but it moved like a thick liquid. D’Naa cried out again, and Raeth’s patience ran out. He yanked on the Night with a sudden surge of strength, pulling it free and commanding it forward.

  Black columns of darkness exploded from the shadows, moving parallel to D’Naa’s vines and slamming into the creature. Raeth couldn’t manipulate his Night—couldn’t form it into tendrils and fingers like the creature did—but what he lacked in finesse he tried to compensate with passion. He pushed the creature with all of his strength, trying to force it backward, across his room. Into the pool of light made by the solitary lamp burning near the far wall.

  He could hear grunts of surprise, like multiple voices blended in unison. The creature struggled for a moment beneath the twin onslaught, then it began to slide backward.

  “I did not come to fight you, emperor,” the voice said, its hissings laced with anxiety. “I came to offer a compromise. Force me to flee and the hordes will still advance!”

  Raeth paused. Then he released his Night, his body immediately relaxing. He hadn’t realized how hard he had been working. “D’Naa,” he said, laying a hand on her vine-covered arm.

  D’Naa started, her concentration breaking. She looked up, then she sighed, releasing her Verdant and letting the vines drop to the floor of his room. The creature’s Night disappeared immediately, evaporating like dark smoke, just as Raeth’s had.

  “Your compromise?” Raeth demanded.

  “Amberite and Bestarin must die,” the voice said, “but they needn’t be slaughtered. My master has agreed to let you live. Let the cursed Aethers be cut from your bodies and spawn no children, and you may live out the rest of your days amongst the children of Vae.”

  “What?” Raeth asked. “This is your compromise? I can’t command an entire people not to have children.”

  “Only those of Amberite or Bestarin” the voice hissed. “Steps would have to be taken upon the men to make certain further children of cursed tribes could not be sired.”

  “Castration?” Raeth asked incredulously.

  “You would rather be slaughtered, child of Makkal?” the voice asked.

  Makkal? The voice in Raeth’s head said. I know that name.

  Raeth ignored it for the moment. “You have no compromise, creature,” he spat. “To have no children is to end the Ancestral lines.”

  “Your Ancestors are already Forgotten,” the voice hissed, “they bear the cursed Aethers. Who do you think it is that attacks you? Generation upon generation of High Aedin, unknowingly tainted by the Aethers they bear. The cycle must stop. Do not curse your posterity because of your own foolishness, child of Makkal.”

  That can’t be true! Raeth thought, feeling numb. Father, grandfather, the lines of the High Aedin…Forgotten?

  “I’ve heard enough,” D’Naa snapped, raising her arms again. The creature cried out in fear as D’Naa let loose another barrage of Verdant. The vines, however, found nothing to capture. The dark form vanished before the Verdant arrived, dissolving into smoky Night.

  Raeth stood, stunned.

  D’Naa let her vines fall dead again, frowning. “Sorry,” she said, looking up at him. “I never have been very good at negotiating.”

  Raeth shook his head, barely listening to her. What if they really are just trying to save us? He thought. What if those creatures are our ancestors, what if they’re trying to protect us, like the stories say they do? Protect us by destroying Amberite and Bestarin, so no more of us will become Forgotten… .

  “Raeth,” D’Naa said urgently, reaching up to put her hands on his shoulders. “You don’t believe that thing, do you?”

  “What if it was speaking the truth?” Raeth asked quietly. “What if all this time we’ve been cursing ourselves without knowing it?”

  “Men aren’t cursed because of lineage or Aethers,” D’Naa said firmly. “They can only curse themselves by what they themselves do. It was lying to you.”

  “Maybe,” Raeth said.

  “Definitely.”

  Raeth, Night said in his head. Did you feel it?

  Feel what? Raeth asked.

  When it left. Did you feel what it did? The way it disappeared?

  No, Raeth said, waking from his stupor. Did you? Can you follow it?

  No, I can’t follow, the voice said. But I do think I know what it did. You were trying wrong—you tried to Send your brother. Bu
t Night is opposite from what your priests do. It is different.

  It can’t Send others, Raeth realized, suddenly understanding. Illuminous can send others, but it can’t Send itself.

  Here, the voice said, pay attention. Feel what I do.

  And suddenly, Raeth felt his body dissolve into a puff of darkness.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  The black pool confronted him, darker even than the night sky above. Moonlight was lost in the pool’s caliginous depths. It seemed to draw him forward, pulling on all that was around it.

  Why have you brought me here? Raeth demanded.

  It was the first place I thought of, Night said. Can you feel it?

  Feel what? Raeth demanded. Then, however, he realized he could feel something—sense something. He could feel the pool the way he could feel the Night crouching around, only the pool was far more powerful. Concentrated.

  I was trapped inside it for so long, his Aether said. I can’t even remember how long it claimed me.

  Do you think it’s true? Raeth asked. Were you once a man, like me. An Amberite Bond who became Forgotten?

  Maybe, Night said. I remember fleeing to you.

  When the droplet of Night touched my skin? Raeth thought, remembering.

  When you Bonded it, the voice confirmed. But, you weren’t the first. There were others, but I didn’t go to them.

  Why? Raeth asked.

  I felt something on them. A taint. It filled me with hatred, and I shied away from it.

  Raeth frowned. A taint? He asked. What do you mean?

  I…don’t know, Raeth. I can’t answer your questions.

  Raeth sighed.

  But, the voice said, I… .

  What? Raeth asked. You remember something?

  No, Night said. No memory. More of a sense, something that has always been with me. A connection. I cannot answer your questions, but perhaps there is someone who can. I can feel him now.

  Who? Raeth asked.

  I don’t know.

  All right, Raeth thought. Where is he then?

  I don’t know.

  This isn’t very helpful, Raeth thought with exasperation.

  I think he’s trapped, like I was. But, trapped elsewhere.

  How do we find him then? Raeth thought.

  Find another place like this one, the voice replied.

  What do you mean? Raeth demanded. Night, however, had decided to fall silent. Raeth sighed again, turning back to the pool. There were no Forgotten left in the city; they were all on their way to slaughter his relatives. He still had no idea how to stop them.

  However, as he stared at the pool, he began to realize something. He didn’t have the same feeling of dread he had earlier in the day. He frowned at his own emotions. What had changed? He wasn’t more optimistic, but for some reason he felt light fighting now, when he hadn’t before.

  And slowly he realized what it was. The creature that had appeared to him to offer the deal, it had told him something. That he had an enemy. His people weren’t just being attacked by nebulous spirits—the messenger had mentioned a master. Raeth had an enemy. He didn’t know who that enemy was, but for some reason the knowledge that he was in a direct struggle with someone, or something, made his determination flare.

  Taking a deep breath, the tried to remember what it was that the voice in his head had done in bringing him to Saeris Va. He gathered the Night, touching the budding senses within himself, and formed an image of his rooms in his mind. A second later, he fell into darkness as he had before, moving through a dark void rife with chaotic movement that he could sense but couldn’t feel, shooting back toward Vae Annitor.

  #

  D’Naa stood in Hern’s rooms, still staring at the place where he had been standing a few moments before. Her Aether was exhausted from trying to attack the creature, and it passed the fatigue on to her. She ignored it. A stronger emotion held her attention: worry.

  “Raeth?” she asked, unsettled by the fear in her own voice.

  They took him, she thought with anxiety. What should she do? Call for the guards? What could they do?

  She stood uncertainly, standing before broken glass and discarded Verdant vines, shaking slightly. It can’t end this way!

  And then he was back. D’Naa blinked in shock as the darkness seeped from the corners of the room, joining into a human-like form that snapped into color. The emperor stood before her, a look of consternation on his face.

  “Well, one thing is certain,” he said, looking over at her. “It’s certainly more agreeable on one’s stomach than a Sending.”

  “What happened?” D’Naa demanded, taking a step toward him.

  “The dark Aether,” Hern—Raeth—said, sitting down with a tired sigh, “it can Send just like Illuminous can. Only, instead of Sending others, it lets me Send myself. It’s also very exhausting.”

  D’Naa stood for a moment, but then she just sighed and sat beside him. Why not? One thing was certain, he understood his tiredness. “Where did you go?” she asked.

  Raeth paused, frowning, his eyes studying her.

  “What?” she asked.

  “This is going to sound very odd,” he finally said.

  “Can it be any stranger than anything else that’s happened in this last month?”

  “Point taken,” Raeth said. “Sometimes I hear a voice in my head.”

  D’Naa frowned.

  “I’m not crazy,” Raeth assured. “It only started after I bonded Night. I think it’s the Aether. Didn’t you say that Verdant is intelligent?”

  “Intelligent is the wrong word,” D’Naa said. “It…seems to have emotions.”

  “Well, Night talks to me,” Raeth said. “Anyway, it says we need to find other places, like the pool.”

  “What does that mean?” D’Naa asked.

  “I don’t know,” Raeth said. “And apparently it doesn’t either. The voice doesn’t make much sense most of the time.”

  “That’s all right,” D’Naa said, leaning against him, letting herself give into the fatigue of the last few days. “Nothing else has made sense these last few weeks either.”

  Raeth chuckled. “That’s for certain,” he agreed, settling back, content to just sit for the moment pondering his problems.

  #

  He was beside the pool again. Only, this time it didn’t feel by far as powerful as it had. What had changed? And why was it suddenly growing lighter?

  Raeth’s vision fuzzed, and he blinked, coming awake to a gentle shaking. His rooms were bright with sunlight, and he was still sitting on the chair, D’Naa a pleasantly warm lump leaning against his side. He didn’t even remember falling asleep, though he was certain the unnatural position in the chair was going to make his soreness even worse.

  “Aren’t I the one who’s supposed to get caught in compromising positions with women?” a voice asked.

  The lest vestiges of sleepiness fled Raeth’s mind as he looked up with shock, following the arm that had been shaking him.

  “Darro!” Raeth said. “Why aren’t you in the hospital?”

  Darro shrugged, a motion that highlighted the bandaged stump that was the remains of his arm. It had been amputated about halfway between the shoulder and elbow.

  “Why should I stay there?” he asked. “It’s not like a few healers will be able to make it regrow.” He settled back, reclining his bulk in a chair across from Raeth’s. D’Naa moved slightly at the sound, but remained asleep, her head resting on Raeth’s shoulder.

  “Last I checked,” Darro noted, “neither of us were married yet.”

  Raeth blushed. “Nothing happened,” he defended. “We were just—”

  Darro’s chuckle cut him off. “Of course nothing happened,” he said. “This is you we’re talking about, after all.” He leaned back, then shuffled uncomfortably as he tried to lean a non-existent limb on the chair’s arm rest. “You know, I can finally understand why Bestarin let themselves get joined with animals the way they do. This is Twins-
cursed inconvenient.”

  Raeth smiled despite himself. It was good to see Darro back to a bit of his old self. Though there was a haunted cast to his eyes, it seemed that some of Darro’s jovial nature had returned.

  “So, I hear we’re leaving today,” Darro noted.

  “Yes,” Raeth said, keeping his voice down as to not wake D’Naa. “You know what’s happening?”

  “I’ve heard,” Darro said with a nod.

  Raeth let the comment hang in the air, a sense of gloom entering the room despite the bright spring morning.

  “You know,” Darro said, staring off out the broken balcony door, “I thought I’d die on that battlefield. I promised myself I would die, die finally doing something useful.” He turned, looking into Raeth’s eyes. “I’m still here. Guess the Ancestors have didn’t want to take me. That means we have something left to do. What’s the plan?”

  Plan? Raeth thought. “I don’t know,” he confessed. Something was nagging at his mind. He couldn’t remember what it was, something he’d been dreaming when Darro woke him.

  “You don’t know?” Darro asked. “Raeth, you’ve always got something ticking inside that mind of yours, whether it be shooting arrows or Sending livestock. The Imperium could use a couple of falling cows right now.”

  He’d been dreaming about the pool. He’d been near it again. No…thoughts of the pool had interrupted his dream for some reason. He’d felt near to it again… .

  “Darro,” Raeth said suddenly, looking up. “Come here.”

  Darro frowned, but stood, walking over.

  “Touch my arm again,” Raeth said, “like you did a few minutes ago to wake me up.”

  Darro shrugged, but did as requested. Raeth could feel it the moment Darro’s hand touched him. It was very faint, but it was the same feeling as before. The feeling of power and compression.

  “It’s the Aether Bud,” Raeth said quietly.

  “What do you mean?” Darro asked, standing up straight and looking at his palm.

  “The buds, they’re different than the Amberite we make,” Raeth said. “The Buds don’t crumble when they lose contact with our skin, and they’re the catalyst that lets us create Amberite. It’s like…the buds are more concentrated than the armor or swords we make.”