The Aether Knight

by E A Hooper

  “Nah, I got a fight waiting for me,” Odestrog said, grinning. “This little town doesn’t know what’s waiting for it.”

  “Oh gods, you’re probably the reason Mulcir’s uncle saw one future where we all die,” Myamere told him. “I’m sure you’re fated for your big fight no matter what, so don’t go looking for trouble. That fight will find you.”

  “Don’t forget, you’re going to see a sword style you’ve never heard of,” Odestrog told his friend. “Aren’t you excited?”

  “I’m more worried about the task,” Myamere replied. “We’re here for Mulcir and Valx’s cure.”

  They all moved down another rocky slope. Close to the bottom, Mulcir slipped and rolled several yards. His friends reached the bottom and helped him to his feet.

  “Are you okay?” Myamere asked.

  “Yeah, I felt a lightheadedness wash over me for a second and lost balance,” the prince explained.

  His two guards exchanged nervous looks.

  “Don’t worry, I’m fine,” the prince added. “It only lasted a moment.”

  “Good thing we’re finding your cure today,” Roz said. “Valx’s too. I wonder if he’s even noticed anything wrong with him.”

  “I’m still wondering how this path is supposed to lead us to him,” Myamere added. “Do you think he’s staying in this city?”

  “I can’t imagine Valx staying in the North,” Roz said. “My best guess is that he went back to that mountain I told you about. Or somewhere in the West. Or maybe Shift took him far away.”

  “Hoods up,” Mulcir said as they approached the road into the city.

  They all raised the hoods of their cloaks over their heads. Roz thought it unnecessary since it was unlikely any Northerners would recognize them, but they had bought the cloaks at the start of their journey just to be cautious. Roz and Myamere had purchased matching red cloaks, but Mulcir and Odestrog had bought old, brown ones.

  Roz saw no guards as they entered the city, but they spotted other travelers and caravans. Her eyes turned to the narrow alleyways that branched from the main road. She saw Northerners talking and trading, shops in cramped places, and kids running without supervision. Smiling Northerners greeted them as they passed, and the Westerners nodded politely.

  Seems like a happy, little town, she thought. I wouldn’t have expected such a welcome place in the North. The clans have always been untrusting and cold. However, I know this city grew a lot after the republic formed. This is what the rest of the North could be like if the lords and clans stopped this terrible war.

  They passed the center of town where dozens of people were setting up for the festival. The people smiled at them, and one man even asked if they needed a place to stay for the night. “No thank you,” Mulcir replied. “How long until the festival starts?”

  “Just a couple more hours,” the man replied. “I hope you strangers enjoy it.”

  “I’m sure we will,” Mulcir told the man.

  They continued toward the harbor, passing groups of Islanders along the way. Some of the Islanders stared at them, making Roz nervous, but then she realized they might be tourists who’ve never visited the mainland of Ter’al before. She put on a fake smile, and one of the Islanders smiled back and kept walking.

  At least we don’t stand out with all these different kinds of people here. I was worried people might be able to tell we’re Westerners. Especially me and Odestrog. I’m too tan to pass for a Northerner, although I could always claim to be from the border with the West. But Odestrog looks like a Mountain Man with a Western face. At least Mulcir and Myamere look like they have some Northern ancestry.

  They reached the start of the harbor, leaving the maze-like brick alleys behind them. Roz stared at the ocean, watching the waves toss and turn like she used to at Tunra. She remembered sitting with Valx and Xulthen at the docks. When it was too cold to swim, they’d sometimes sit, talk, and watch the waves for an hour.

  I wish we had spent more time watching the waves together. Just us three and the ocean.

  Roz realized she was falling behind the others and hurried to reach them. They peered over the harbor for any odd-looking ships.

  “Do Island Nation ships count?” Odestrog asked, looking at the curved shape of an Islander’s vessel.

  “My uncle would’ve told us if it was an Island Nation ship,” Mulcir replied. “He said it wasn’t like any ship he’d ever seen. Maybe a new kind of ship? Something the Islanders will use in the war?”

  “That could be it,” Myamere said. “Maybe this new ship will cause the turning point in a major naval battle that shapes Ter’al’s future.”

  “But that doesn’t explain the gap in his vision,” Roz said. “Or why that ship would have a cure for the blood disease.”

  “Maybe this just puts us on the right path to my cure,” Mulcir said. “Or maybe that ship has a physician that can cure the blood disease. I guess we’ll find out when we see it.”

  “Huh,” Odestrog uttered, staring at the ocean.

  “See something?” Myamere asked him.

  “Thought I did for a second,” the muscular man replied. “I turned my head real fast and thought I saw a metallic sheen moving toward the empty docks over there. But when I looked back, it was gone.”

  He pointed at the empty docks, and they all turned to look.

  “Nothing there,” Mulcir said. “You probably saw light reflecting off a fish as it jumped from the water.”

  “Nah, it was too big,” the Cragslayer replied with a confused expression. “I think—Could’ve sworn. It almost reminded me of a sword jutting forward. It caught my warrior-eye, you know?”

  “If you saw a sword, I would’ve seen it first,” Myamere replied, glancing around. “I spotted a couple of armed guys climbing off that Islander boat to the right. Is that what you saw?”

  “No, it wasn’t over there.”

  Roz stared at the empty docks, and then she felt a sensation at her side. Cauli? she wondered, grabbing the hilt of her sword. She felt the sword’s power flow through her arm and body. When the tingle reached her eyes, she looked at the docks again.

  Cauli’s power seemed to stretch her vision, and a ship appeared in her view. The small, strange ship approached the end of an empty dock, bobbing up and down with the water. It looked plated with metal and had no sails that she could see. As the ship turned, almost unnaturally, she noticed a spinning blade at the back of the ship. The spinning blade, which seemed to propel the strange vessel, slowed to a stop.

  “Roz?” Myamere asked, noticing she was staring at something.

  “All of you, move closer to me,” she told them. “My blade is showing me the ship. It’s sitting at the end of that dock. There seems to be some power, likely a greatborn, making it hard to see. It’s not invisible, but my eyes couldn’t focus on it there until Cauli’s blade showed me.”

  Myamere grabbed her other hand. “I see it,” he said.

  Mulcir put a hand on the Godblade’s shoulder. “Yeah, I see it now. I get what you mean. My eyes couldn’t find the right spot until just now.”

  Odestrog put his hands on two of their shoulders. “That’s it. That’s what I saw. It’s like you can’t look at it directly or something. Not without your sword’s power.”

  “So, whoever is on that boat must assume no one can see them,” Mulcir noted. “All of you, act nonchalant. We’re just a group of friends staring at the ocean. Act like you don’t see the ship.”

  They leaned on a nearby metal railing and stared at the ocean. However, they all stayed in contact with each other and kept the ship in the corner of their vision. From that distance, they could see people moving on the small ship, but they couldn’t make out any details.

  A man stepped onto the dock and walked across it. He turned his head in their direction, and they all kept their eyes on the ocean.

  From the corner of her eye, Roz saw white hair under the man’s hood.

  “Valx?” she said, turning her head.<
br />
  The man stopped in place, and his almond-colored face turned to her.

  Roz looked past him at the water and the peers. “Oh, what a lovely day,” she said out loud, trying to act like she didn’t notice the man.

  The man tilted his head in curiosity but then turned back to the ship as several others stepped off. “Leya’mon de myan,” he called with a strange accent. “Voya al com rey’al.” His friends nodded and followed, all pulling hoods over their heads.

  Five people in total climbed from the ship. The fifth one, a giant person that looked eight feet tall despite their hunched back, rocked the boat as they climbed off. Odestrog squeezed his friends’ shoulders with excitement at the sight of the gigantic person.

  “Stay calm,” Mulcir whispered. “Act like you don’t see them.”

  The shortest cloaked figure raised their hands to the boat. The metal plates seemed to melt and shape themselves over the top of the vessel. Once the craft was completely enclosed, the figure lowered their hands, and the ship sank underneath the water.

  “A greatborn,” Roz whispered. “He shapes metal. They must use his power to propel that spinning blade on the back of the ship.”

  The cloaked strangers walked across the dock, being led by the white-haired man. Every step brought them closer to Roz and their group. That skin tone. Those facial features. I’d almost think he was a relative of—

  Roz paused in her thought as the figures stopped near them. “Wow, look at the ocean,” she said. “It’s really beautiful today.”

  “Yeah, I’m glad we came for this festival,” Myamere added.

  “Beautiful weather too,” Mulcir noted.

  “It sure is peaceful here by ourselves,” Odestrog said, nervously. “Just us friends by this empty dock. No one else.”

  Roz tried to hold back a sigh, but then the group of strangers turned and walked around them. The Westerners stood, their bodies tense as they continued to stare at the ocean. Myamere whistled a happy tune, but the rest of them were paralyzed with nervousness.

  “Come on, friends,” Myamere said, shaking Roz and Mulcir’s shoulders. “Let’s be more cheerful. We got a great day of celebration ahead of us.”

  “Jual bel mar’al?” a voice called from beside Roz. The white-haired man leaned on the railing beside their group. He stared at them closely with his hand to his chin. After a few seconds, he turned to his group. “Varamal ito mal nor. Fiyo don ga’ral.”

  The group of strangers laughed, and the Westerners grew tenser.

  The white-haired man held his hand toward Roz. “Zha?”

  Roz turned and looked at him. “Oh, hello. I didn’t see you there.”

  “Zha, zha?” the man asked, smiling.

  She reached for his hand to shake it, but when they touched one another, a pulse ran through Roz’s body. She felt paralyzed for several seconds, and then flashes of images ran through her head. She saw herself as a child in Tunra. Fishing, swimming, and teaching the orphans to read. She saw herself playing with Valx and Xulthen. She saw the smoke over the harbor on the day Tunra was attacked. She saw the battle of Castle Stoneborn.

  Roz felt Cauli’s power rush through her, shaking her from the flashes of memories. She pulled her hand from the man’s grip and fell backward into Myamere.

  “Roz!” the Godblade shouted.

  Their group turned to face the strangers, but the white-haired man raised his hands to show he was unarmed. “I apologize, I apologize,” he told them. “Don’t attack us. I was only trying to learn about your culture and language. There’s no need to fight us.” The man backed away from the railing and moved toward the cloaked figures that had arrived with him. “It’s interesting that you pretended not to see me. My friend’s power only hides me when I’m beside him. The moment I walked to the end of the dock, and you pretended you didn’t see me, I knew something strange was happening.”

  The white-haired man touched all his friends on the head. “Do you all understand their language now?”

  “Ugh, what kind of garbage language is this?” a bearded man with long, black hair said.

  “It’s not that bad,” a strong-looking wyrgen said. His fur looked mostly white, but Roz could see splotches of brown on his hands, face, and shirtless chest. “I got bits of their culture too. Seems like they have a good taste for fish in the—Western Kingdom I think it’s called? Weird name for a little empire.”

  “They’re primitives, what do you expect?” the bearded man said. He glanced at the Westerners. “How do you see the rest of us? My power of perception should make it difficult to notice us unless we’re close enough to touch. You can clearly see us from farther away.”

  “Obviously, they have greatborn too,” the shortest one, a girl that looked seventeen, said. “They’re the welcome party for this small, savage continent.”

  “They don’t seem so bad,” a low, harsh voice called from behind the others. The largest figure peeked around the group, and only then did Roz notice his inhuman, reptilian face. “I kind of like their culture. The bits Lucien showed us, anyways.”

  “I left out a lot,” the white-haired man said. “It’s mostly useless information. You lot don’t need to know their long, boring history, or her old memories of friendships past. Funny, I saw memories of some long-lost descendant of the Ilt Brood.”

  “Ilt Brood?” Roz asked.

  “You see my white hair?” Lucien asked. “Like your friend I saw in your memories. That hair was a byproduct of the Ilt Brood. During the Galcian Empire, the Ilt Brood possessed the most loyal servants to the emperors. They called my ancestors the Emperor’s White Dogs. I can hardly believe someone from the Ilt Brood left with the Lost Kin. Although I could tell from your memories, it’s not a common trait in this land.”

  “What’s the Galcian Empire?” Mulcir asked.

  “Oh, my!” Lucien exclaimed. “Everyone, you might not have gotten this memory, but we’re standing in front of Teran royalty.” The white-haired man bowed to the prince. “My apologies, Prince Mulcir. Let me explain. The Galcian Empire is mere history by this point. It once dominated the continent of Fey’al. That’s our homeland of course. I saw in Roz’s memories that your uncle foresaw our arrival. At least, he surmised our ship’s arrival would affect the future of this continent.”

  “They knew we were coming?” the bearded man asked.

  “They had a great-willed with the power to see the future,” Lucien told his friends. He glanced back at the Westerners. “Great-willed is our term for greatborn.” He turned back to the Feyans. “So, his uncle sent them on a journey to meet with us. He predicted the journey could be perilous, but for reasons I don’t understand based on the glimpses I saw. Miss Roz pulled her hand away before I could find out more.”

  “You shouldn’t have been in my head,” Roz said, tightening her grip on her sword hilt.

  “No need for tension,” Lucien replied. “We’re not here to fight. We only want to learn about Ter’al. You see, one of your explorers made it to the tip of Un’al, which is the continent that my big, lizard friend Jek is from. Your explorer drew a map of your continent in relation to Un’al. We Feyans have a long, sometimes arduous, history with Un’al. So, of course, word of Ter’al eventually reached the Idious Empire that now dominates Fey’al, parts of Un’al, a small portion of Tund’al, and various other islands. The discovery of Ter’al reminded our emperor of a little-known piece of history he called the Lost Kin. A large group of humans and wyrgen that got the idea to leave Fey’al and cross the ocean. Our emperor had always assumed the story ended with the Lost Kin dying in the ocean, but he was intrigued with news of Ter’al. So, he sent us to learn what we could.”

  “That doesn’t give you a right to take my memories without asking,” Roz replied, sternly.

  “Once again, I apologize,” he said, smiling at her. “I had to do something about that pesky language barrier. Then I thought I should learn about your culture while I was at it. I’d hate to disrespect your people or
nations. But I happened to see you knew a few great-willed and couldn’t help but pry for more information. That woman you know—Shift—she seemed especially interesting. Do you think you could introduce us to her? Her no-doubt impressive collection of memories could fill me in on Ter’al’s long history.”

  “I don’t know where she is,” Roz said. “She wouldn’t like you prying in her memories anyways. If there’s one personal thing I learned about her, it’s that she still thinks ill of Fey’al after all these years.”

  “Oh, too bad,” Lucien said. “I’m glad your group is here, though. Prince Mulcir, I’m sure your uncle sent you because he knew we’d be looking to form treaties with the natives of Ter’al. The emperor wants to make the acquisition of this continent as simple and painless as possible.”

  “Acquisition?” Mulcir said. “If you want an alliance, I’m sure we can do something. But you can’t just take our entire continent.”

  Lucien pulled back his hood and ran his fingers through his white hair. He looked at their group, smiling at each one of them. “Oh, you poor natives. So ignorant, but it’s not your fault. You see, the emperor owns Ter’al by his divine right to rule. This divine right has been passed from emperor to emperor all the way back to the Galcian Empire from which your ancestors were born. That means ownership of Ter’al belongs to the Galcian Empire, or rather its current descendant, the Idious Empire.”

  “The nations of Ter’al belong to themselves,” Mulcir replied. “Our ancestors abandoned that old empire to form new nations. Your emperor’s claim of divine rule has no power over us. If you want a peace treaty between the Western Kingdom, or to start trade, I’ll gladly offer you that. However, you can’t have my kingdom.”

  Lucien sighed and glanced at his companions. “It’s such a sad thing, my friends. These natives are so long-lost that they’ve forgotten the glory of the empire. The power and divine right of the emperor’s line.” He turned back to Prince Mulcir and held out his hand. “Let me show you, honorable prince. My power lets me acquire and share pieces of memories. Give me your hand, and I’ll show you Fey’al. I’ll show you why you have no choice but to submit to our rule.”