The Aether Knight

by E A Hooper

  “Well, a lot more people would’ve died today if we hadn’t been here,” Myamere said. “I suppose that counts for something.”

  “Alright, let’s go back to camp and tell them Carren isn’t here,” Mulcir said. “You two can chat about your internal struggles and all that horseshit later.”

  “Yeah, some of us like fighting,” Odestrog said with a huff. “You two always make me think too much about why I’m fighting. It gives me a headache.”

  “Some of us don’t want our kingdom to burn to the ground,” Mulcir noted. “There’s nothing complicated about it.” The prince floated up the stairwell, and the rest of their group followed.

  “The Northerners are people too,” Roz said. “They have families and homes and cities we’ve taken. It’s not so simple.”

  “I’m heir to the Western throne,” Mulcir replied. “It’s very simple to me. I protect my people. To hell with the Northerners.”

  “Then why’d you let them surrender?” Myamere questioned.

  “Simpler that way,” Mulcir said, “and that’s the only reason.”

  “Be simpler if you let me fight ’em,” Odestrog grumbled.

  “You need to be careful anyways,” Mulcir said. “Last time we were here, your leg started hurting again, and you almost didn’t make it out with us.”

  “Hey, it added some excitement,” the Cragslayer replied. “And you know, the leg pain has grown on me a bit.”

  “You like your leg pain?” Myamere said. “What kind of madness is that?”

  “I didn’t say I like it,” Odestrog told him. “It just makes me feel human. Gets my teeth gritting and blood flowing. Kind of like when we spar, you gods-damn monster of a swordsman.”

  “I guess Valx doesn’t have to apologize for blasting your leg,” Maymere said.

  “Like he would anyways,” Roz replied. “If we ever even see him again.”

  “I’m sure he’ll show up eventually,” Myamere told her. “He only joined the war to kill his brother. Maybe he’s back at that mountain where your dragons are from. After the war is over, we could go find out.”

  Mulcir blew clouds at the last of the burning oil, putting out the flames.

  “Nah,” Roz said as they reached the barricaded door to the roof. She smashed through the door with the power of Cauli’s blade and whistled for the dragons to return.

  “Nah?” Myamere questioned.

  “I mean, I’ll have to return this sword to the library,” she told him. “However, I don’t care to find Valx. He ran away again like I knew he would.”

  Myamere frowned at her. “He’s still your friend. Besides, he didn’t run away. Shift took him away. Maybe he was badly hurt, and she’s looking after him.”

  When the dragons landed, Roz mounted Vinefire. Myamere climbed on Seawing, and Odestrog rode Bullback. Roz gave the command, and the dragons flew in the direction of their camp.

  Mulcir followed on his cloud. He stayed close to the dragons at first, but after a minute, his cloud slowed and dipped. “Something feels wrong,” he called as his cloud dropped faster and faster.

  “Mulcir!” Myamere shouted, pulling Seawing’s reins to chase after the prince.

  Roz and Odestrog followed them both. She watched the blue dragon catch up to the cloud, and Myamere grabbed Mulcir’s arm to hold him steady. She could see the prince lower his head, and for a moment, Roz thought he’d fallen unconscious.

  The prince landed near a large tree, and his cloud vanished. The three dragons landed beside him, and their riders dismounted. “What’s wrong?” Roz asked.

  “I feel lightheaded,” the prince replied. He coughed into his hand, and Roz saw spots of blood.

  “Eyl’oera bless,” Odestrog said, gaping at the blood. “You eat something bad, my friend?”

  “No,” the prince said, his voice weak. He placed his hand on the tree to steady himself. “I think I’ll be okay, though. Whatever it is, it feels like it’s passing.”

  “It’s not passing,” a voice called from behind the tree. “You’re only seeing the first sign of the blood disease.”

  “Who the hell?” Mulcir said, looking around the tree.

  A man in an orange coat sat against the other side of the tree. With his hood pulled down, Roz couldn’t see the top half of his face, but his wrinkles and lips formed an obvious grimace.

  “Blood disease?” Roz asked him.

  “You have a rare blood disease,” the man told Mulcir. “It’s typically spread by mosquitos in the Wetlands. The symptoms will show themselves here and there over the next few months, but then it’ll get much worse. At most, you’ll live a couple of years.”

  “How the hell would you know?” Mulcir questioned.

  The man pulled back his hood, revealing a sharp-angled face about fifty-years-old and eyes that glowed orange in color. “Do you recognize me, nephew?” he asked the prince. “You were a young child last time we met.”

  Mulcir stared with a blank expression at the man. “Kelison?”

  “Please, call me by my marked name. As far as I’m concerned, Kelison died in the Clan Wars. I’m Bastion.”

  “Mom thought you were dead,” Mulcir stammered. “Everyone did. They thought Dragon or Reaper did it.”

  “Not dead—just distracted.”

  “What could have distracted you for twenty years?” Mulcir questioned.

  “Fate,” Bastion replied. “It’s like a puzzle, you see? I’ve been trying so hard to put it all together. All the pieces. But there’re branching paths. There’s one I saw once where you became a warrior-king and took over most of Ter’al, but that path vanished when Reaper set his machinations to work. He can’t see the strings of fate like I can, but he’s done everything he can to put us on a certain path. And it’s all my fault. Everything. This war. Your blood disease even. I saw it—I saw she’d get it, but I couldn’t do anything about it without taking us off the right path. Understand?”

  “What the hell are you talking about, uncle?” Mulcir asked. “She, who?”

  “Reaper’s daughter,” Bastion told him. “The one who stabbed you with her blood. She picked up the disease from a slave she killed with her power. That man was forced into slavery because he defaulted on a massive debt in the Wetlands, and his original owner traded him to the formerly secret city of Central and then north to Reaper. Reaper had his daughter Lilan practice her power on slaves, and she later transferred it to you—to Valx too.”

  “Valx?” Roz interrupted, worry growing in her voice. “He has it too?”

  “His symptoms aren’t showing yet,” Bastion said. “He’s from a stubborn bloodline, so he won’t notice the symptoms for a month or two. But don’t worry, there’s a way to cure it.”

  “Tell me,” Mulcir said.

  “It’s not easy,” Bastion replied.

  “I’ll do anything,” the prince told him.

  “Fate’s playing us all,” Bastion said. “All the pieces are there, but I’m the only one that can see them. I’ve been trying to figure it all out. What I told Reaper and Dragon all those years ago. What it means. How to stop it—can I stop it? But there’s a gap that I can’t see into. I can see past it, around it, beyond it. I see that you discover a cure in that gap, but in that gap lies something else. I see all the strings of fate coming from that gap and toward that pivotal moment when Ter’al’s fate will be decided.”

  “I don’t understand anything you’re saying,” Mulcir told him. “Gaps? Ter’al’s fate? And what did you tell Reaper and Dragon?”

  “Don’t worry about that,” Bastion said. “Just know you’ll find your cure in the Northern city of Snowchapel during their yearly Blue Petal Festival. A ship—a strange vessel like I’ve never seen before—arrives at the dock. That’s when the gap starts. I can’t see on that ship, but after it leaves, the strings of fate all rush outward from that point. All the way to the end. To the moment I told Reaper and Dragon about.”

  “What moment?” Roz asked.

  “D
on’t worry,” he said. “None of us will be there for it. We can only carry the torch for the future of Ter’al. But your group needs to go to that festival. You’ll find your cure as a result, but you’ll also make a discovery that will shape Ter’al’s future. You’ll see the truth.”

  “You’re still not making any sense, uncle,” Mulcir said. “Why don’t you take a breath and explain in greater detail?”

  “No time,” Bastion said, rising to his feet. “I have to be somewhere in a couple of months. I see the strings leading me there. I need to be at that place—at that time—to keep us on the right path.”

  “We can’t bring Mulcir into Northern territory,” Myamere said. “Do you know how dangerous that will be?”

  “I know exactly how dangerous it is,” Bastion said, staring at him with glowing eyes. “I see a string where you all die. Another where you all live. Another where you die, but your friends live. And a dozen other possibilities. But if you don’t go—all of you—then Mulcir will die for certain. And worse, Ter’al will be doomed.”

  “Doomed from what?” Odestrog asked. “Is it something I can fight?”

  Bastion looked at him with orange eyes and laughed. “I can’t tell you, but you’ll see for yourselves when you get to the festival. However, I can tell you some interesting things. Odestrog, if you go, I see you’ll have the fight of your life. Against the biggest, strongest man you’ve ever seen.”

  “You’ve got my interest,” Odestrog replied.

  “Mulcir will get his cure,” Bastion said.

  “Assuming we end up on the string of fate where we survive,” the prince muttered.

  “Myamere will see a sword style he’s never heard about,” Bastion continued, ignoring his nephew.

  “Really?” Myamere said, his eyes lighting with the fiery excitement that Roz had grown to adore.

  “And Roz,” Bastion said. “If you follow this path, it will lead you to see Valx again.”

  “Valx?” Roz replied. “I don’t really care if I see him again.”

  “That’s a lie,” Bastion told her. “You should see your oldest friend again. At least to have a proper goodbye.”

  “I guess we didn’t get to say goodbye since Shift carried him away,” Roz said. “It would be nice to have that much.”

  “And we’ll need to give him the cure,” Myamere noted.

  “That too,” Bastion said. “You see now? Fate’s one big puzzle. If you look at it just the right way, it all fits together. Now, I must be off.”

  “I guess we’ll tell the camp what we’re doing and then head north,” Mulcir told his friends.

  “No,” Bastion said.

  “No?” Mulcir questioned.

  “Don’t return to camp,” Bastion told him. “They don’t need to know where you’re going. They don’t need to know about me. The strings of fate are better in your favor if you go north right away.”

  “But my parents should know where I’m going and why,” Mulcir said. “A prince can’t suddenly disappear like that.”

  “I can’t explain why,” Bastion replied, “but sometimes good intentions lead us astray. Just trust me.”

  “Kind of hard to trust a guy that disappears for twenty years and only shows up to deliver cryptic messages,” Roz said.

  Bastion turned his glowing eyes to Roz. He’s not staring at me, is he? He’s staring past me. Beyond me. At my future and maybe even my past. He was a close friend of Yahn, so I should be able to trust him, but why the hell didn’t he tell his friend he was alive? Yahn was alone on that mountain for years, and Bastion didn’t visit him once. Has this guy really just been watching events from a distance? No interactions whatsoever?

  “It would’ve been nice,” Bastion told her.

  “What?” she asked.

  “If Valx had stayed with you instead of leaving for the war. That was the only string where I saw him being truly happy. However, Ter’al would’ve ultimately suffered without his involvement in the war.”

  “You’re saying he’ll never be happy now?”

  “If everything goes well, one day he’ll be content. And that’s a better fate than many people get.” Bastion pulled his hood down and walked away from the group. “It was nice seeing you again, nephew, and it was nice to meet your friends in person. There’re so many people I know like family, yet I’ve only ever seen them in visions. Have a safe journey.”

  “Uh, thanks,” Mulcir replied.

  Roz kept her eyes on Bastion as he walked down the hill. Even with the hood over his eyes, he stepped over every branch and avoided every sudden drop. He’s following the strings of fate, she realized. He’s avoided interfering with everyone and everything for two decades, but now he’s set us down a path he saw in a vision. So, this must really be important. But what could possibly be in this gap in his vision that would concern the fate of Ter’al? Maybe it will lead to us winning the war?

  She stared at her friends, and all three had similar expressions of worry and curiosity. “So, we’re going north?”

  “I guess so,” Mulcir said.

  “Can we trust your uncle?” Myamere asked. “He seemed a little off.”

  “My mother’s power gave her severe anxieties when she was younger,” Mulcir told him. “My uncle has spent the last twenty years looking at all the good or bad that might happen. That’d make anyone a little off. I’m sure he’s trying to help me—and maybe all of Ter’al from what he was saying.”

  “Who cares,” Odestrog said. “I’m just happy for my big fight. This is what I’ve been looking for. Forget the war. Forget the fate of Ter’al. There’s a big man out there that’s calling my name. Bless the gods and all they’ve built, I’ve got the fight I always wanted waiting for me.”

  The other three sighed and shook their heads.

  Chapter 3

  Radu watched the battle as his men and Vassal Lunori’s army pushed both sides of the Northern forces that had infested Eyl’Step. This was the third battle in three weeks, and Radu knew it would be the last as word arrived of two more step-temples captured by their side.

  “Three weeks,” Radu told Lullum. “The North held Eyl’Step for a measly three weeks.”

  “What did they expect?” she replied. “No one’s ever captured Eyl’Step. They should’ve known holding it would be twice as difficult.”

  “They didn’t expect us to work with the Eastern Kingdom,” Beldivare said, approaching from the camp. “How would they have known one of Snake King Radu’s closest allies was the brother of Vassal Lunori?”

  “King Radu,” Radu reminded him. “I don’t like when people call me Snake King.”

  “Too late,” Belidvare said. “That’s what they’re calling you across Ter’al. Even Gelmont’s spies say the Northern lords call you that. Hell, even your own father.”

  “I’ve heard as much from Gelmont,” Radu replied. “One of his spies said Reaper seems almost proud that his son conquered the No-King’s Land. At least he was until he heard we were a democracy and that my title was more of a formality.”

  “He’ll be less proud when he learns his son is causing him trouble,” Beldivare noted. “You know, I got word that he sent another courier to try to bargain with you. However, the rest of the representatives voted to send him away.”

  “Good,” Radu said. “I don’t want to make deals with that bastard unless it’s to get Pyre back from Eldsworth.”

  “You know, it’s one of Eldsworth’s generals that’s holding the step-temples,” Beldivare noted. “You could’ve offered him a deal if they could give you your brother.”

  “They wouldn’t have done it,” Radu said. “A son of Lord Reaper is worth more than step-temples surrounded by enemies. Besides, we made a deal with Queen Zelbith through your brother. If I betrayed Lunori, the East would never trust us again.”

  “Not to mention, we’ll get your brother back one way or another,” Lullum added.

  “That we will,” Radu said, sighing. “I just hate that it’s tak
en so long. Hopefully, Zelbith will allow Lunori to aid me in an attack on Eldmoon once we take back Eyl’Step.”

  “I have no doubt she will,” Beldivare said. “The queen is a calm but spiteful woman. She was furious enough when that Northern general assaulted Lunori’s castle to attack your friend. Taking Eyl’Step, even for just a few weeks, is a tremendous insult on the East. Eldsworth just upturned a thousand years of history.”

  “He’s too greedy,” Radu said. “He already took Eraterth from the West. He’s spreading himself too thin. According to Gelmont, about thirty-percent of his army captured Eyl’Step. Another thirty holds Eraterth. Assuming ten percent is moving between cities or at Melmar, then he should only have a third or less of his army guarding Eldmoon. If your brother gets the word from his queen, we shouldn’t have much trouble taking the Ninnan Clan’s capital city.”

  “But then we’ll have to worry about retaliation from the rest of the clans and their lords,” Beldivare replied. “The only thing that kept the East from getting aggressive after the trouble your friend caused was that lords Cire and Lito have a good relationship with the two vassals controlling the territories along the northern border. Some of the old clans that merged with the East a hundred years ago still have connections to the Funter Clan and the Meere Clan. Hell, Vassal Tyunna grew up in the Funter clan and was a childhood friend of Cire. Those two ladies hate the idea of going to war with one another.”

  “Childhood friendship doesn’t mean much when one of their nations wants to dominate all of Ter’al,” Radu told him. “But then again, if the Northern Republic is stressed too far, the lords to the far east might get the idea to split off and join the Eastern Kingdom. You might want to think about passing that idea to Tyunna through your brother.”

  “I don’t see that happening, but it would be good for us if it did,” Beldivare said.

  “Maybe not,” Lullum said.