The Aether of Night

by Brandon Sanderson

  “Oh, dear,” Shaad repeated disapprovingly. Hlin only chuckled.

  “This was a foolish plan,” Shaad snapped. “Ala’D shouldn’t have sent D’Naa to do this. Why, what if she’d been captured? We already have Verdant; why do we need Amberite too?”

  D’Naa barely paid attention to her grandmother’s words. She simply stood, reveling in the excitement of the moment. In a way, she couldn’t believe herself—she’d always been taught to follow the Kavir way, to be practical and prudent. What she felt was neither of those things. Yet, it was magnificent nonetheless.

  Finally, she sighed, forcing herself back to reality. She was standing with her Verdant exposed, dressed in a tight black outfit. If guards started searching the palace… .

  “The King’s plan is not foolish, grandmother,” she said, moving into her bed chamber to change. “He’s right—we need Amberite, especially after what we saw yesterday in the north. I didn’t get the Bud tonight, but I’ll get it next time.”

  “Next time?” Shaad asked from the next room. “You’re going to try this foolishness again?”

  D’Naa poked her head into the doorway, regarding her grandparents. “Of course.”

  #

  It was very hard to fall asleep with people watching him. The guards stood beside his door, standing with well-trained Aedin formality, staring straight ahead. Technically, they weren’t looking at him, they were staring at some undefined place just over his head, but it was disturbing nonetheless.

  Nothing had been discovered about the assassin, of course. Powerful Verdant Bonds could climb walls and use their vines like ropes to swing from place to place. If Raeth had been thinking, he would have placed guards on the balcony as well. He just hadn’t expected Laene to be so garrulous as to attack him the very day he was made emperor.

  The Verdant Line was already denouncing the attack, of course, claiming that they had no female Bonds of such power. Their only explanation was a poor one, that there had to be some rogue members of the Line who were unsatisfied with the government. Everyone suspected the truth, however.

  So, Laene has been training powerful High Aedin Verdant assassins, Raeth thought, closing his eyes, sleep finally beginning to come. As if I didn’t have enough problems with the end of the world and all.

  No end of the world, the voice said in his head. Just the end of half of it.

  Raeth’s eyes snapped open. The room looked exactly the same, illuminated by the glow coming through the open doorway, where another half-dozen soldiers stood guard. Yet, the darkness in the corners of the room seemed a bit deeper, the shadows a little longer. Raeth couldn’t suppress a shudder.

  What are you? he demanded.

  Why?

  Raeth paused. Why what? Why do I want to know what you are?

  Why? The voice repeated. You promised to tell me why.

  Raeth lay quietly for a moment. He really was going insane. But, the darkness had freed him. It had ripped the assassin’s bonds free like they were nothing.

  You are the Living Night, Raeth accused. The souls of the Forgotten.

  I do not know, the voice said. I want to know why.

  Why what? Raeth asked. Why I wanted to be freed? I was going to die.

  What is free? The voice asked.

  Free is… . Raeth paused, thinking. Free is not being in bondage.

  That is what free is not, the voice said. What is it?

  It is doing what you wish. It is moving when you wish. It is being what you wish.

  There was silence for a moment. I wish to be free, the voice finally said. And then there was silence. Raeth continued to speak in his head, making demands, making requests, and generally driving himself mad, but no reply came. Eventually, he fell asleep.

  Chapter Eight

  The Counsel Room was more like a warehouse than a ‘room.’ Inside sat one of the finest tools of the Aedin military, an enormous scale model of the northern border. Even after a week of visiting the room, Raeth was amazed by the map’s detail. It depicted the entire area from fifty miles south of the border, to the border itself—complete with a detailed replication of the northern pass and it’s powerful wall—to Saeris Va in the north.

  In Raeth’s opinion, the War Counsel itself was far less impressive. The group of twelve Strategic Generals were a stuffy lot who had trivialized warfare to the point that they saw it more like a game than a serious endeavor. Their strategies seemed simplistic and antiquated—they had spent centuries fighting the unorganized Harrmen tribes. Now that they were faced with a different threat, their hesitance showed that they didn’t quite know how to react—no matter what they claimed.

  The problem was, Raeth knew even less than they did. Though he’d spent years as a child trying to convince his father he’d make a good Sworded, though he’d read dozens of books on military strategy, the hard truth was he’d never led men into battle. He doubted he’d be able to do any better than the generals.

  So, Raeth watched. In the week following the assassination attempt, he spent most of his time in the Counsel room, observing. What he saw was not encouraging. Imperium spies, each accompanied by two Vo-Dari for quick transport, affirmed that the dark army had continued to grow. The creatures continued to spawn, presumably from the Pool of the Forgotten, until there were nearly two-hundred thousand of them in and around the city.

  Two days into the week, the Imperium’s fears came true. The army of Forgotten began marching south. The Aedin could no longer hope that the attack on Saeris Va had come indiscriminately. The creatures were focused on the Imperium.

  Raeth watched them now. Or, at least, he watched the pieces that represented them. The people had begun referring to them as the Forgotten, though it was still uncertain if they really were the souls of banished Ancestors.

  The creatures always moved in a block formation, marching in neat ranks. All two hundred thousand of them moved at once—the spies said that Saeris Va was completely empty now. Not that it mattered—two hundred thousand was more than enough to pose a threat.

  The twelve generals stood at various places beside the map, regarding troop placements. Gaedin stood at their head, like usual, his pale, hairless face and lanky features making him look more like a shop-keeper than a leader of armies. To the side, several Vo-Dari waited to bring orders directly to the battlefield.

  Suddenly, a Shorriken messenger materialized on one of the room’s small sending platforms. The man quickly recovered from the Sending, then stood straight and saluted. “They’re moving again, sir!” he said.

  Raeth shot a look out the window. To the east, he could barely make out the first few rays of sunlight. They start moving at the same time every morning, he noticed with a slight frown. Right at sunrise. Why not move at night? Wouldn’t it make more sense?

  The messenger explained the Forgotten movements to the mapkeepers, and the Shorriken men scuttled forward, moving the Forgotten blocks across the map as indicated. The messenger was barely necessary, however. Once moving, the Forgotten troops always walked at exactly the same speed in exactly the same direction—directly toward Vae Annitor.

  The Counsel room was tense as they waited for the Forgotten to approach. The War Counsel had positioned its troops a good hour’s march from the Forgotten—they wanted the battlefield to be well-lit when the conflict took place. However, despite the tension, Raeth saw excitement on the faces of most of the generals. The last week had been spent in skirmishes and diversions to test the strength of the Forgotten forces. This would be the first real confrontation.

  Raeth’s eyes flickered down the length of the map, to where the Imperium troops waited. The trap was a good one—because they knew exactly where the Forgotten army would march, the generals had been able to choose the perfect spot for the battle: a deep valley with smooth terrain to monopolize on the Mahallen cavalry. The Imperium armies were divided into five separate forces, each one placed to attack the Forgotten army on a different side. With such a perfect opportunity—and with th
e power of the Aethers—it shouldn’t matter that the Imperium forces were outnumbered.

  Yet, something about the set-up made Raeth uncomfortable. He couldn’t decide just what it was. The Imperium troops were well-positioned; Aedin and High Aedin formed the core of the attack force, with troops of cavalry, archers, and a good number of Kavir and Shorriken infantry to support them. This time, the generals’ smugness was well-deserved. It should be a simple battle. The High Aedin—especially the Amberite and Bestarin—were the Imperium’s base fighting force. The other groups, even the cavalry, were usually unnecessary.

  Still, Raeth was nervous, and he passed the hour in discomfort. A week’s time had allowed the War Counsel to grow accustomed to his presence. On occasion, Raeth made some comment just to remind them he was there, but he was careful not to make any suggestions relating to actual troop placement or orders. He’d been foolish enough to try that on the first day, and it had nearly gotten him expelled from the Counsel room—the generals had done it nicely, of course, but there had been the threat of a Senate vote behind it. Since then, Raeth had made certain not to threaten the Counsel’s authority.

  It was a difficult position to stomach. Technically, he was the most powerful man in the Imperium—probably in the world. And yet, every time he tried to do something, he found a dozen people running to try and tie his hands.

  It’s probably best that way, Raeth though with a sigh, sitting back in his throne-like chair. What if Hern really had become Emperor? The Imperium has lasted for centuries—it could never have done so if one idiot on the Throne could bring it down.

  The Senate, War Counsel, and rights of citizens were all Shorriken ideas, integrated into the Imperium during the years of its founding, just after the Aedin had invaded from the north. Unfortunately, in idiot-proofing the Throne, the laws had left Raeth practically impotent.

  No, that’s not true, Raeth told himself as he watched the generals discuss strategy. My father wasn’t impotent, neither was Eadal the Just, or dozens of other Emperors. The problem was, everyone assumed Raeth was Hern. The more time he spent on the throne, the more he realized that the Imperium had been bracing itself for a long time to deal with Hern’s reign. All of the idiot-protections were already firmly positioned, and they had just been waiting for Vaetayn’s death.

  That cage had fallen around Raeth instead of his twin. It was frustrating—Raeth had spent his entire life wishing he could be something other than Dari, and now that he was, no one would give him an opportunity to prove himself. All he could do was sit on his pretend throne, making stupid comments. The worst part of it all was that he was forcing himself to play the part, intentionally acting like Hern so that they wouldn’t find him out. Every time he spoke, he pulled the cage a little tighter around himself.

  Maybe I really am useless, Raeth though. Maybe they’re better off treating me like Hern. After all, what experience do I have leading men?

  “My Lord?” Tarrinon asked beside him.

  Raeth looked up from his ponderings. “Yes, Tarrinon?”

  “Are you certain your presence is necessary here, my lord?” the aging Shorriken asked. “The War Counsel is very experienced in these matters, and there are several cases that need your attention.”

  “Cases?” Raeth asked. “All you want me to do is sign documents. I’m a new Emperor—even if I weren’t regarded as an idiot, people wouldn’t bring their grievances to me. They’ll go to the Senate first.”

  Tarrinon blinked, a slight look of shock on his bearded face. “You know, my lord,” he finally said, “you are much more observant than I had been led to believe.”

  Raeth snorted quietly, smiling to himself.

  “Which is why,” Tarrinon continued, “I would think that you could see the importance in fulfilling your duties as Emperor. The documents may not require you to stretch yourself, but they do need to be signed before they’re legal.”

  “I get half the day for myself, Tarrinon,” Raeth said. “that was our agreement.”

  “Of course, my lord,” Tarrinon said. “I was just thinking that with the ball tonight, you would want to get a head start on your work… .”

  “I’ll pass.”

  The man sighed, but he said no more on the subject. Even though Tarrinon kept pushing, Raeth could tell he was satisfied with the half-day agreement. Tarrinon was a bureaucrat—he would much rather have half the day firmly for himself than have to fight for an unknown percentage. For some reason, Raeth had the feeling that Tarrinon saw all Emperors—brilliant or idiot—as children who would do anything to avoid that which was good for them.

  I wonder how he’d react if he knew that secretly I felt he was right, Raeth wondered with amusement. He knew he needed to do all the things Tarrinon wanted—he needed to sign documents, to meet emissaries, and play the part. As inane as it all felt, Raeth knew the surest way to convince people—especially those who were Aedin—that he was incompetent was to not do his duty. If he took care of his lesser responsibilities, maybe someday they’d trust him with greater ones.

  Greater ones? Raeth thought, pausing. I thought you told Darro you were going to give up the Throne once the war with the Forgotten was over.

  Regardless, Raeth would do his duty—even if that duty only half-belonged to him. He had been taught that much. However, he could sign papers and meet emissaries just fine during the later half of the day. In the mornings, he wanted to keep an eye on the army that threatened to destroy his empire before he got a chance to rule it.

  The hour passed uneventfully. The messengers continued to bring updates every few minutes, the mapkeepers continued to move the Forgotten army forward, and the generals continued to gloat over their plans. The room began to grow more tense, however, as the Forgotten army approached the valley. The messenger updates came more quickly, one arriving almost as soon as another left.

  Raeth noticed it first. He leaned forward on his ‘throne’—which he had ordered raised on blocks not just because he thought it was what Hern would do, but because it gave him a clear view of the table. Something was wrong—the most recent update had placed the Forgotten army in a slightly re-arranged order.

  That’s wrong, he thought. They always march in a straight rank.

  Raeth waited anxiously while the next update came. When it did, the mapkeepers moved the block of Forgotten slightly apart.

  “They know about the ambush!” Raeth said, standing slightly.

  A couple of the generals looked at him, then rolled their eyes. “There is no way they could, your majesty,” Gaedin said soothingly.

  “They’re breaking formation,” Raeth said, pointing at the block of black-painted troops.

  “They always do that before a battle,” Gaedin replied. “They’ve seen our decoy army and they’re going to attack it. Don’t worry, your majesty. The Harrmen do this all the time too.”

  Raeth slowly sat back down, keeping an eye on the Forgotten as the mapkeepers continued to update. It did indeed look like the creatures were simply reorganizing. Their massive numbers made the small contingent of Imperium decoys look pathetic by comparison, but, Raeth supposed, that was the point.

  The Counsel room continued to bustle, Shorriken aids shuffling through the room, running errands for the Counsel members, lesser generals watching quietly, but Raeth barely noticed them. He watched the large map carefully. Their first true battle with the Forgotten. How would it turn out?

  “My lords!” an alarmed voice yelled.

  Raeth’s head snapped up, a lesser general stumbling from a Sending platform. Behind him two messengers dashed toward the mapkeepers and began to speak in frantic whispers.

  “What is it man!” Gaedin snapped, wrinkles crossing his aging forehead.

  “The creatures, sir!” the Bestarin general said, gesturing with a wolf-clawed hand. “They’re splitting.”

  Raeth turned with worry, an expression mimicked by most in the room. Shuffling and whispering quieted as the mapkeepers obediently began to mo
ve their pieces. They cut the main Forgotten army into six smaller pieces, then moved them forward in huge bounds, each one heading for a sequestered portion of Imperium soldiers.

  So quickly! Raeth thought with amazement. One moment the Forgotten had all been together, the next their separate parts had crossed half the distance to the hidden ambushers.

  “We’ve been discovered,” Raeth snapped. “Tell the men to fall back!”

  Several faces looked up as his voice rang through the small room. None of those faces, however, were Counsel members. Gaedin and his fellows continued to stare at the map for a moment. Then, in tandem, they broke, each one barking orders toward separate messengers. Orders to deploy.

  Messengers dashed to Sending platforms and disappeared in bursts of light. Raeth stood for a moment, uncertain whether to be embarrassed or angered.

  They completely ignored me, he thought, sitting down with a lethargic movement. However, the battle soon took precedence over pride. Raeth watched with worry as the next update arrived, and the mapkeepers moved.

  They had reacted too slowly. The Forgotten forces climbed the hills, spilling down on the surprised and disorganized Imperium forces. What had been planned as a perfect trap had been sprung—but on the wrong side. Now the Forgotten forces not only outnumbered the Imperium forces, but they also held the high ground. Even worse, the Imperium army was divided and fractured.

  “This battle cannot be won,” Raeth whispered with concern. “We have to retreat.”

  Gaedin looked up at the comment, but immediately turned back to his advisors.

  Raeth ground his teeth in frustration. They will follow my commands! He thought, preparing to rise. I will not watch this!

  He tensed, preparing to speak, but a hand fell on his arm.

  “I would advise against it, my lord,” Tarrinon said quietly. “Do not force them to override you formally.”

  Raeth paused, looking down with annoyance. “What?” he asked.

  “The War Counsel has been granted full martial autonomy by the Senate, your majesty,” Tarrinon explained. “Their vote can override any of your commands. For your sake, they pretended not to hear the first time. If you force their hand, however, they can make your impotence formal.”