The Aether of Night

by Brandon Sanderson

  The unknown man was a Vo-Dari too—the one Raeth had left alone in the City of the Ancestors so many weeks before. A man who should have been dead.

  #

  When Raeth materialized, he found no Sending platform below him. In fact, he found nothing below him. He immediately began to fall, plunging through the dark sky toward the ground hundreds of feet below.

  They Sent me to die! Raeth realized with horror. Immediately, he Sent himself, entering the dark Chaos. He appeared on the ground blow, thumping against it slightly, knocking the wind from his lungs.

  Raeth blinked in the darkness, his face against the ground. The Vo-Dari. But… .

  Only then did he become aware of screaming. He looked up with fright. He recognized the voice.

  “Darro!” Raeth yelled, leaping to his feet. He searched the moonlit sky, his brother’s bellows approaching quickly.

  There! Raeth thought, picking a dark form out of the air above him. He prepared to Send himself to it, so that he could catch Darro and Send them both back to the ground.

  NO! Makkal said in his mind. He would maintain his momentum through the Sending. He would die anyway.

  Then how? Raeth thought with desperation.

  Use the Night. Form it.

  Terrified and uncertain, Raeth reached around him, grabbing hold of the formless substance. It was easier to move with so little light to interfere, but it still resisted him. He strained, forming it into a large mass and pushing it into the air beneath Darro.

  Move it down with him gently, Makkal said. Slow his fall carefully.

  Raeth did as instructed, trying to move the enormous blotch of darkness below his brother, pushing it against the falling form with increasing strength. Raeth strained against the difficulty of maintaining the Night and forcing it to do as he wished. However, Darro’s life would be the cost of weakness. He forced himself to keep working. It only took a few heartbeats, but the strain was almost enough to knock Raeth unconscious.

  Darro, however, landed safely. Raeth rushed over to where his brother lay, still screaming, on the ground.

  “Darro!” Raeth said, urgently.

  Darro’s yelling cut off immediately, and he opened his eyes, confused. He reached down, realizing he was on the ground.

  “Raeth?” he asked. “What happened? I came out of the Sending and thought I was falling!”

  “You were,” Raeth said, reaching down to help his brother stand. “I used the Night to slow your fall.”

  “You can do that?” Darro asked with surprise.

  “Apparently,” Raeth said, frowning. What else can I do with this power?

  What can’t you do with it? Makkal returned. Remember what my father said. It part of that power which creates, half of the substance of the universe. It is by this power that Amberite and Bestarin were made; it is by this power that worlds are formed.

  Raeth shuttered slightly in exhaustion. Considering how hard it was for me to catch a falling person, I doubt I’ll be making any worlds in the near future.

  All things are taken in relative amounts, of course, Makkal said.

  “Raeth,” Darro said, his voice hushed.

  Raeth looked up. Darro had stood, and was pointing at something, something Raeth hadn’t seen for the darkness. Now that his eyes were adjusting, however, the moonlight clearly illuminated it.

  A body. It lay on the ground a short distance away, twisted and broken from an incredible fall. “Slaughter and Despair… .” Raeth whispered, looking up over the field. Hundreds of lumps lay strewn across the flat field around them. Immobile. Dead.

  “What is going on?” Darro asked, his voice choked with emotion.

  “The Vo-Dari,” Raeth said, stepping forward, looking down at the bodies, forcing himself to look, against odds, to see if any of them lived. Most were soldiers, but many wore the uniform of palace servants. All were Aedin or High Aedin of Amberite or Bestarin, and all were dead. The corpses were all fresh. Probably not more than a few minutes old.

  “I recognize some of these faces, Raeth. These are the people that were Sent before us,” Darro said, realizing the same thing. “Those who were supposed to go to Kavir with us.”

  “Yes,” Raeth said. “And servants who thought they were escaping the palace tonight. The Vo-Dari are traitors, Darro.” I hope D’Naa is all right, he thought, feeling sick. They wouldn’t have any reason to hurt her, would they? She bonded Verdant.

  “But…the Vo-Dari, Raeth? Why?”

  Their power, Makkal said. It is the Aether of my brother. I remember it. The other half of the power. I hate him. I hate it!

  “Blessed Ancestors!” Raeth said, realizing something. “Darro, come on.”

  #

  The Irae was empty. Vae Annitor itself was probably empty—any who hadn’t been Send were dead. Many of those who had been Sent were dead. Raeth stepped forward, lowering Darro’s bulk to the ground. A solitary lantern burned in one corner of the circular main room, illuminating paintings on the walls.

  I feel him, Makkal said. I feel the taint. It is strong here!

  Where? Raeth demanded.

  Go. I’ll direct you.

  Raeth stepped forward, Darro, his eyes sad, following behind. How many people had waited here, in the Irae, until the last moment? Had any prayed for deliverance this night, then been Sent to their dooms?

  Makkal led him through the cramped tunnel-like corridors, past empty alcoves. Raeth paused briefly beside one. His own cubical—he remembered it still, with its small alter for his paintings, a cushion for his kneeling legs. He looked up, turning down the tunnel, striding forward.

  There, Makkal said, straight ahead.

  Raeth pushed open the door, entering a small storage room. He’d been in it before—there were no other exits.

  Beyond the wall! Makkal said urgently. I can feel him!

  “Darro,” Raeth said, standing back. “This wall needs to go.”

  “Gladly,” Darro said, moving stump and arm together. Amberite crackled down his good arm as well as down his stump, creating an Amberite arm. He braced himself with a bit of Amberite down one leg, then formed a massive hammer, as tall as a man and broad as two palms. “Step back,” he warned, then smashed the hammer into the wall.

  The entire wall shook visibly, dust and chips flying free, cracks springing out from the impact. Darro pulled his weapon back and struck again, bellowing this time. Raeth could see rage in his eyes, anger over the deaths he had seen, pent-up frustration from not being able to do anything.

  The wall only lasted three blows. It had obviously been built after the rest of the Irae, and it crumbled inward upon itself, crashing to the floor.

  Raeth peered through the dust, and saw what he had feared, and hoped, he would find. Hundreds of men and women sat in meditative positions, their eyes closed. A single Vo-Dari stood at the sides of the room, a frightened expression on his face. In the very back of the room, Raeth could see something glowing brightly. A brilliant white pool.

  “What?” Darro asked, kicking aside rubble and stepping into the room.

  “These men have Bonded Night,” Raeth said quietly, gesturing at the meditating people. “Our Forgotten, Darro. This is where they come from.”

  The single Vo-Dari guard jumped forward, and Darro raised his hammer. Raeth, however, moved first, his adrenaline-fueled senses summoning a column of Night from the shadows. He smashed it forward, slamming the Vo-Dari back against the far wall, his bones cracking. The man let out a gasp of pain and slumped to the ground.

  “Don’t even think of trying to Send us,” Raeth hissed angrily, stepping into the room. All this time, they were right here… .

  “When I heard they had tried to Send you to die, I was worried,” a hauntingly familiar voice rasped. “We hadn’t realized that you’d Bonded Night until earlier today, and few of the Vo-Dari had been warned.”

  Raeth turned slowly, watching a figure approach from the side of the room. Actually, five figures. The aging Patriarch sat atop
his litter, four men carrying it forward for him. The multi-legged creature.

  “You have betrayed us,” Raeth said, stepping into the room.

  “Yes,” the Patriarch said, his eyes sorrowful. “But it was inevitable, my emperor. Amberite and Bestarin must fall. Vae, our God, commands it.”

  “You’ve been behind it all along,” Raeth said, his mind numb. “We’ve been fighting and dying, and the source of our death was just a few feet away from the palace itself.” Raeth looked up, his eyes blazing with anger. “I will stop it now,” he snapped, stepping up to the first meditating man, an Amberite sword forming in his hand. He froze, the blaze raised to strike. He recognized the man.

  “Jaenor,” Raeth whispered, shocked. His old friend from the Irae. They always said he would be made a Vo-Dari soon… .

  “Only Amberite and Bestarin can Bond Night,” the Patriarch informed. “It will kill Verdant and Ferrous who try to Bond it, for they are opposites.”

  Darro hissed in surprise, stepping up beside Raeth, his hammer still formed. “You mean all of those who have been killing us… .”

  “Are of your own Lines,” the Patriarch said, raising his hand, revealing the Amberite Bud set in his wrinkled palm. The aged man’s rasping voice was choked with emotion. “Would you have it any other way, Prince Darro? This slaughter must take place. At least it can be done by those who love, and understand, the ones who must die.”

  “That includes you too,” Darro snapped. “Or will your god made an exception?”

  “Once the cleansing is finished, we too will give our lives,” the Patriarch said. “Please understand, Prince Darro. This is our Duty. The Imperium will be far better off once the unholy Aethers have been removed.”

  Raeth knelt beside his friend, staring at the man’s face. Jaenor didn’t react, his eyes closed, his face concentrating.

  “Jaenor, why?” he asked.

  “You haven’t seen Him, Emperor,” the Patriarch whispered. “Vae. Agaris. He appears in our dreams, speaks in our minds. We do this not out of delusion or madness, we do it by command.”

  Jaenor sat motionless, oblivious to Raeth’s presence.

  He’s doing it right now, Raeth realized. He’s killing my people.

  Raeth stood, readying his sword. “It must be done,” he said firmly.

  The Patriarch sighed. “You still don’t understand, do you?”

  Raeth paused.

  “Killing us will do you know good. There are barely two thousand men in this room. How many are in our army?”

  “You mean… ?”

  “How do you make an army of two-hundred thousand Forgotten?” the Patriarch asked. “Some of us can create multiple Forgotten—some as many as four—but that still leaves a large number Night Bonds.”

  “That’s impossible,” Raeth challenged. “There aren’t that many Vo-Dari.”

  The Patriarch raised his eyebrows. “These men aren’t Vo-Dari,” the Patriarch said speaking slowly. Raeth frowned, he seemed too willing to explain. Too complacent.

  “The third child of every Aedin family is made a Dari, my lord. Over half of those are from Amberite or Bestarin. They cannot Bond Illuminous and become true Vo-Dari, but instead… .”

  Raeth blinked in surprise, numbers running through his head. Dari was the smallest profession—some families didn’t have a third sons, and families with six still only had to send one Dari. That was a lot of people. But a hundred thousand?

  “Every Irae in the Imperium has a room like this, emperor,” the Patriarch informed. “Built, then sealed off, with no entrances. Only Vo-Dari can enter and leave. We make food with Verdant bonds, and we have wells within the rooms themselves. No one knows of the Night Bonds but the Vo-Dari themselves. Most of them have lived here all their lives—we’ve bred them over time, according to Vae’s words, always training, selecting the most devout and giving them Night Bonds. Vae appears to each one individually, making certain they are devoted, making certain they do only as they are told.”

  I can’t stop them all, Raeth realized, finally understanding the futility of his task, his mind numb. He’d wondered why the Patriarch didn’t seem worried that he’d found them. After this night and its massacre, there probably wouldn’t be enough Amberite or Bestarin Bonds left to care.

  “I told you it was futile, my lord,” the Patriarch said. “This has been foretold by Patriarchs through the centuries. That day when you came to search for answers I was worried that somehow you’d read our secret writings. How glad I was when you found the page we’d marked for you and accepted that as our ‘prophesy.’ If you’d known the entire truth, this would have been much more difficult. Trust me, emperor. I’ve tried for years to find a way around this day’s events, but to no avail. This must occur.”

  Raeth stood, striding up to the Patriarch, his Night Bond attendants regarding Raeth with apprehension.

  “Just because you believe in what you are doing doesn’t make it right,” Raeth informed quietly. “Darro, we have gruesome work ahead of us.”

  Darro nodded, raising his hammer.

  “But, it would be pointless!” the Patriarch insisted. “You have to listen to what I have to say. It is—”

  He’s stalling, Raeth realized with shock. That’s why he’s talking so much.

  “Every one of you I kill gives innocent people a better chance to escape,” Raeth said firmly, trying not to think about what he was about to do. How was he any better, slaughtering these men?

  There! Makkal said suddenly, making Raeth jump. He IS here.

  Suddenly, Raeth’s attention was focused toward the pool at the back of the room. He frowned, pushing his way past the Patriarch and walking toward the radiant pool of white liquid.

  The source of Illuminous, Raeth realized.

  Raeth jumped back slightly as the pool rippled, glowing substance raising into the air. It formed into a sphere, and then resolved into an enormous glowing face—one Raeth recognized. He had seen it in paintings, like the one Jaenor had done the day Raeth left the Irae. It was on the floors of his palace, hung on the walls of his rooms. Vae, the first Ancestor.

  “My Lord and God,” the Patriarch rasped, his carriers kneeling.

  The face focused on Raeth, its eyes glowing brightly with rage. Uh, oh… .

  Suddenly, Raeth felt a power surge within him. Darkness coalesced from the sides of the room, swirling toward Raeth in a chaotic cloud. The power pulsed within him, the mass of Night forming into a face identical to the one hovering above the pool. Except, Makkal’s mouth was open, and it was bellowing in anger-filled rage. Raeth shook from the power of the scream, his body going into spasms of pain. Makkal’s bellow rang through his mind, forcing out all other thoughts, threatening to tear him apart.

  Then both faces exploded in showers of light and dark. Raeth looked up from the ground, blinking as the pain, and the scream, vanished. All was still.

  Raeth stumbled to his feet, uncertain what had happened.

  “Raeth, I—” Darro said, drawing his attention. As soon as Raeth turned, however, he saw something.

  “Darro, watch out!”

  Darro turned just in time to see the wounded Vo-Dari, crawling across the floor, touch him on the foot. Darro’s mouth opened to yell, but he dissolved into light before any sound came out.

  “Darro!” Raeth screamed.

  “It is over, emperor,” the Patriarch whispered. “Amberite has fallen. So begins the reign of Agaris.”

  “No!” Raeth wailed, stepping forward. Darro… .

  Then he turned, enraged, toward the pool of light. “I will stop this,” he growled. “I will stop you both.”

  Opposites. My sons are opposites, of opposing substances, like the Aethers themselves. The seek to destroy each other… . the Former’s words returned to him. He had given the secret after all.

  The gods were opposites. Amberite and Verdant were destroyed when they touched each other.

  Raeth took a deep breath, looking down at the glowing po
ol. So it came to this. The one, ultimate question of duty.

  Raeth… . the voice in his head said warningly.

  “What are you doing?” the Patriarch demanded with concern.

  Raeth turned, looked the Patriarch in the eye, then cast himself into the pool.

  The flash of light was immediate. Raeth didn’t even have time to pull his arm back as the blast destroyed the waters around him, engulfing him like a wave of pure fire. At the same time, he felt something inside himself begin to burn—a piece of himself being ripped away.

  Go, Makkal said. One final gift.

  And Raeth felt himself being Sent.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Raeth waited impatiently in the hot sun. While En Mahall was nice in the winter, the summer was unbearable. Everything was wet and sticky from the humidity, and one sweated even in the shade.

  This day, Raeth didn’t even have shade. He sat atop his horse, something he had become far more proficient at riding over the last few months. Options for travel had grown far more limited recently.

  “You know, your majesty,” Rall Hannin said, sitting comfortably in the heat despite his massive head-dress, his beard, and his robes, “you actually look quite distinguished with that tan. Almost Mahallen.”

  Raeth snorted his reply. Rall Hannin and the rest of his people were rather fond of taunting the Aedin for their low tolerance of Mahallen weather. Raeth turned to the side, looking back toward the city of En Tolall, the Mahallen capitol. Though it spread out over a large area, its buildings—made of stone and bricks—were squat and unimpressive. It didn’t have the colors or the unique architectures of the north. For the time, however, it was home.

  “Your majesty,” Rall Hannin said. “You might want to turn around.”

  Raeth snapped around eagerly, looking across the drab, brown Mahallen scrub toward the north. “It’s about time!” he said excitedly as he noticed the horses approaching in the distance. “Excuse me, your highness, but I’m going to do something rather un-imperial.”