Raeth sighed, laying his hand on his brother’s shoulder. After the ball, Darro had apparently snuck out of the palace for his nightly revelry. He’d been drunken into such a stupor that he hadn’t even found out about the assassin until the next day.
In a way, Raeth was glad his brother had been absent. Darro’s powerful Aether would have quickly burst through the door to his room, and if that had happened they might have been able to catch D’Naa. Raeth wasn’t certain what to make of the girl or her possession of an Aether, but he did know that he didn’t want others to know about her secret until he decided what to do about it.
A problem for another time, Raeth told himself as soldiers began to notice his presence. Focus on the task at hand.
The border wall rose in behind them, an enormous stone structure that abutted steep cliffs on either side. The wall was high and thick, and there was no gate or opening in it. No enemy had ever penetrated its defenses.
The camp on their side of the wall was situated much like a small city, patterned after the military district of Vae Annitor—though its structures were far more functional than ornate. Low, squat bunkhouses ran in neat rows away from the central watch tower, and there were plenty of stone Sending platforms for mass troop movements.
The camp was busy—most of the troops from the north had been relocated to the border to wait for the Forgotten arrival. He easily spotted soldiers from all four Aedin lines, and an equally large number of men from non-Aedin descent. All moved with an air of urgency—while the generals and Senators back in the capitol might look at the conflict as a game, to these men it was deadly real.
Men paused when they saw Raeth, their eyes opening wide before they remembered to salute. He ignored them, hoping that none would see through his ruse. This was the ultimate test of his ability to impersonate Hern. The capitol had seen little of Raeth’s brother over the last four years; those who knew him best lived on the northern border. Raeth had made certain to cut his hair precisely like Hern’s, and had practiced walking as a soldier according to Darro’s instructions. Hopefully, his subterfuge would hold.
As soon as he passed them, he heard soldiers dashing off in various directions. His arrival was unannounced—he had expected it would create quite a stir. Better that, however, than have the troops spend hours preparing formations for his arrival when they should be worrying about the enemy.
Eventually, an Aedin man whose cloak-clasp proclaimed him to be a captain, rushed up and saluted. “My Lord!” he said breathlessly. “We weren’t informed you intended to visit.”
“That is because I didn’t tell anyone I intended to visit,” Raeth said with a Hern-like wave of his arm. “Go and fetch general Taenen for me.”
“Yes, sir!” the man snapped, then turned and rushed over to an aid and sent the man running.
Raeth continued to walk toward the large bureaucratic building at the back of the camp—where he assumed the general would be. The captain followed closely behind in case Raeth had any other orders, as did a growing crowd of interested soldiers.
Raeth’s guess proved correct, and he soon saw the distinctive, tall form of the Bestarin general approaching down the steps to the large building. The general stood stiffly and saluted with his human hand as Raeth climbed the steps to meet him.
“General,” Raeth said with a nod of his head.
“My lord,” Taenen said formally, his human eye laced with confusion. “We did not expect to see you. This area is dangerous.”
“Nonsense,” Raeth said. “I lived four years of my life on the border. It’s more comfortable to me than that palace.”
“Um, yes, my lord,” Taenen said.
“I need your help, general,” Raeth said, nodding back toward the building. “Let us find a place where we can speak without distraction.”
“Of course, my lord,” the general said, falling into step beside Raeth as they climbed the steps. The tall general was far more uncomfortable around Raeth than he had been during the conflict at Saedin, but that made sense. There was no direct foe facing them, and the general had an opportunity to remember just what kind of man he was dealing with. Raeth had to change that opinion.
Raeth caught Darro’s eye as they passed the building’s columned entrance, and his brother nodded toward a side hallway. Raeth followed the instructions, stepping firmly, trying to express familiarity. A few turns later, Darro had led him to a small conference room that bore a wall-map of the northern border. Several Shorriken aides joined them in the room, moving almost unseen as they took up positions to wait for orders.
“General,” Raeth said, strolling up to regard the wall-map, “we are losing this war.”
He heard a grunt of surprise from behind, and Raeth turned to look at the owl-eyed general. “Do you disagree?” Raeth asked.
Taenen paused.
“Speak openly, General,” Raeth requested. “We don’t have time for anything else.”
“I do not disagree, sir,” Taenen replied. “We are losing this war. I’m just surprised to hear someone from the south admit it—especially you, sir.”
Raeth nodded slowly. “What is your impression of the battles so far?”
“Frankly, sir?” Taenen asked.
“Always, general,” Raeth said.
“The men are afraid, sir,” Taenen replied. “No matter what the War Counsel thinks, we can’t fight these things. Wall or no wall, they’re going to get past us. Especially if we keep fighting as we have.”
Raeth turned eyes back on the war map. “Where are they now, general?” he asked.
“About a day’s march to the north,” he replied. “They’ll be here tomorrow, sir. They always march the exact same distance, every day, like they were hands on a clock. They don’t stop, or even look to the side, unless they see someone to attack. And then, well…they just overwhelm us. If we approach them at night, when they’ve stopped, they immediately awaken and advance on us.”
“You have scouts watching them?” Raeth asked.
“Of course, sir,” Taenen replied.
“Take me to them.”
Taenen’s eyes widened with surprise. “Sir?” he asked.
“Get some Vo-Dari and take me to them, soldier,” Raeth repeated. “I want to see our enemy.”
“Yes, sir.”
#
Taenen was right, the Forgotten army did look somewhat…stiff. They walked formally, in perfect ranks, staring straight ahead—as if their bodies were made of Ferrous. An army of Corpates.
Raeth crouched on the hill, trying to keep his clothing from getting too much snow on it as he watched the massive sea of black flow forward. Each speck was a Forgotten warrior, a fallen ancestor. The spirit of an unworthy man come to exact vengeance. The sight alone was daunting.
“There’s so many of them… .” Raeth whispered. “It’s different when you see them with your own eyes, rather than just the pieces that represent them.”
“Now you see why the men are so frightened, sir,” Taenen replied, kneeling heedless of the cold. A tuft of feathers poked out of his right sleeve, the arm that bore the owl’s claw instead of a hand. Like most Bestarin, he wouldn’t have replaced it willingly—the human hand would have been lost in battle with the Harrmen. The claw was simply a replacement, a strange way of healing provided by the odd Bestarin Bond.
The Vo-Dari standing behind them didn’t endure the cold as well as Taenen—the two men stood shivering, their white robes pulled tight around their bodies.
“You don’t think we can beat them, general?” Raeth asked quietly, his breath puffing out in front of him. They said that the Forgotten rarely took any notice of the scouts, but it was best to be safe.
Taenen didn’t answer immediately. “No, sir,” he finally admitted. “I don’t. You haven’t seen what I’ve seen, my lord. Normal foes cringe before the High Aedin, especially Amberite Bonds. These things. . .they don’t even pause. They overrun our lines without thought… .”
“The Aethers are
failing,” Raeth said. “They can cut through Verdant and Amberite far too easily.
“Yes, sir,” Taenen said. “But it’s more than that. Something else is wrong—the High Aedin are falling too easily. It’s still difficult for the creatures to penetrate thick Amberite. We should be able to stand far better than we have.”
Raeth shivered. “I see,” he whispered. Taenen was right. The ability to cut through Amberite would be a huge advantage, but the High Aedin soldiers would still have access to their massive weapons, still be able to fight… .
Raeth paused, realization finally clicking as he thought back to his fights from before, times when he had sparred with Hern or Darro.
“By the Twins!” Raeth realized, pulling back from the hill. “Darro, Taenen. I want you two to spar for me.”
Darro frowned. “Right now?” he asked.
“Yes, right now,” Raeth said, waving toward a patch of even ground at the base of the hill. Darro shot the general a look, then shrugged and began to walk toward the place indicated. As they did, a scout immediately climbed up to the top of the hill to watch the enemy army.
Darro’s armor crackled, forming around him so massively that he grew several feet, looking himself something like a Corpate. He grew a massive hammer, then stepped back, falling into an offensive stance. Even the tall, muscular General Taenen looked tiny by comparison. The general pulled out a sword in his left hand and held his claw forward threateningly.
Then, the spar began. Taenen dodged forward and landed a score on Darro’s chest. The sword bounced right off, of course, and Darro easily brought his hammer around with a swing that would have clobbered the general had Darro not held back. They began again. This time Taenen struck twice before Darro managed to sweep the general’s feet out from underneath him, sending the man sprawling back into the snow.
By the Ancestors… . Raeth thought, eyes widening as he watched the battle. Suddenly, it made sense. Despite all their superiority, despite their power, the High Aedin were left with one obvious flaw. They didn’t know how to fight. When he’d sparred with Darro that infamous day two weeks before, Raeth had won every hit. When he’d fought Hern that same day, he’d landed several blows easily.
I assumed I was just a good fighter, Raeth thought, flushing. But, that’s not the case at all. It wasn’t that I’m good—it’s that my brothers are horrible. It made clear, unnerving sense. The Amberite High Aedin didn’t know how to fight because they didn’t have to know how. Their Aethers protected them. They didn’t have to dodge, or parry, or even worry about getting hit. All they had to do was wait and land an occasional bow. But, remove the armor. . . .
Verdant was probably the same way. They relied on their vines to stop opponents before they reached them. In addition, more powerful Verdant Bonds wrapped their vines around their own bodies to form a kind of armor. If the Forgotten could cut through the vines as quickly as they cut through Amberite, neither ability would be all that useful.
That was why the armies were losing. They depended on the High Aedin too much—High Aedin who, if their Aether was neutralized, probably couldn’t win a fight against a child with a wooden sword.
#
“Even if you’re right, Hern,” Darro said, frowning. “What good will it do?”
Raeth eyed his brother as they walked off of the palace Sending platform. Darro obviously didn’t like Raeth’s hypothesis—for all his carousing, despite all the time he spent with lesser citizens, Darro was still High Aedin. He liked to feel secure in his superiority, and Raeth’s assertions were a direct challenge to that intrinsic sense of nobility.
But Raeth knew he was right. As humbling as it was to admit, it made sense. The High Aedin weren’t the fabulous warriors they were reputed to be—they could simply survive getting hit. On a regular battlefield the distinction didn’t make much of a difference—being able to survive blows was the same as being a good fighter. But now, with the Forgotten, the truth was becoming clearer and clearer.
“Um, my Lord?” Taenen said, still standing on the Sending platform. “I should probably go back to the border. There is still much to do in planning our defenses.”
“I brought you with me for a reason, general,” Raeth said. “I want you to help me speak with the Counsel. Perhaps they’ll listen to you.”
Taenen frowned, his face uncertain. His owl-eye made the expression look menacing—of course, the eye made every one of his expressions a bit menacing. He took a few steps forward, approaching so that the Vo-Dari couldn’t hear. “May I speak frankly, my lord?” he asked softly.
“You don’t have to keep asking that, Taenen,” Raeth said. “Go ahead.”
Taenen took a deep breath, his face firm. “Sir, I have no desire to be humiliated again. Just order me demoted; don’t play these games. They make us both look foolish.”
Raeth blinked in surprise, regarding the Bestarin general with confusion. Then, it finally hit. “Just a moment, general,” he said, pulling Darro aside. “All right,” he hissed at his brother. “What did I—what did Hern—do to him?”
“Taenen is High Aedin,” Darro replied, “but only barely. He’s of one of the most lowly houses, and he’s married to a regular Aedin woman. A few years ago there was a vacancy on the War Counsel, and Taenen was up for the position. Hern never liked the man—he was threatened by anyone who had any real military talent. So, Hern objected to the appointment, ostensibly because of Taenen’s bloodline. The Counsel position was given to someone else.”
Raeth sighed, closing his eyes. Then he took a firm breath. “All right… .” he said, turning and walking back to Taenen. He reached up and put his hand on the taller man’s shoulder. Taenen regarded the move with confusion and a bit of suspicion.
“General,” Raeth said. “I’ve never been a likable man. I realize this. For that reason, I rarely bother to explain my actions. I’ve recently begun to understand that such is not a good way to rule.”
Taenen frowned. “I don’t understand, my lord,” he admitted.
“I didn’t hold you back from the Counsel because of your bloodline, Taenen, no matter what I said.”
“But… ?”
“I did it,” Raeth said, “because you are too fine a soldier to waste in the Counsel. The War Counsel is more a political entity than a military force. I have always worried that we would take all of our best leaders away from the battlefield and stick them in the Counsel room to grow fat and lazy. You’re far too valuable for that. I saw the way the men looked at you during Saedin, when the rest of the generals were standing around, frightened as merchants. It is because of you that I was able to get so many people out of there safely.”
Taenen straightened slightly as Raeth spoke.
“You are a fine warrior, Taenen,” Raeth said. “Don’t let me, or any one else, tell you otherwise. I left you on the battle front because I didn’t want to lose you, not because I wanted to hurt you. I’m sorry I didn’t have the strength to explain that to you at the time.”
Taenen stared down at Raeth, his eyes almost seeming to tear up. He reached down with his human hand, placing it on Raeth’s shoulder. “For the first time since I met you, my lord, I see sincerity in your eyes. For the Imperium’s sake, I feared the day when you took the throne. Two weeks ago, on Saedin, I let myself begin to hope I’d been wrong about you. Sometimes, it appears, hopes do find truth.”
Raeth smiled, nodding toward the Sending platform. “Go back to your men, general. I won’t make you face the Counsel if you don’t want to.”
“Thank you, my lord,” Taenen said with a bowed head.
“And general,” Raeth added. “Tell them to be of good cheer. We’re going to win this war. The Ancestors be willing, I certainly don’t intend my reign to be the Imperium’s last.”
“Yes, sir!” Taenen said, saluting. A moment later, he was nothing more than a streak of light.
Raeth turned to find Darro shaking his head ruefully. “Twins, Raeth,” he said quietly. “You’re good a
t this.”
Raeth snorted, leading the way as the two walked toward the Corpate tunnel. “You’re exaggerating,” he said. “All I’m doing is trying to control a bit of the damage Hern did.”
“Raeth,” Darro said frankly, “that man was one of Hern’s most bitter rivals on the border. The two hated one another. Now he looks like he’d die for you.”
Raeth paused only briefly. Then he shrugged. “Come on. We have information the War Counsel needs to hear.”
#
Raeth watched the pieces move across the map, trying to imagine them as enormous blocks of Forgotten. The mapkeepers moved the pieces with their long poles, carefully directing each group along the proscribed path. The mapkeepers kept specific notes of every battle, carefully indexing every move on both sides. One could order a replay of any battle that had taken place on the northern border during the last three hundred years.
So, having nothing else to do while he waited on the War Counsel’s whims, Raeth had asked for them to show him the battle with the Forgotten again. And, watching it now, knowing what he did, everything made so much sense. In fact, the Forgotten strategy was so obvious he was amazed he hadn’t seen it before.
The Forgotten army hadn’t intended to defeat the Mahallen or non-Aedin troops—their side-forces hadn’t been intended to win, only to hold. Raeth watched the Forgotten wings attack, holding back the cavalry and the regular troops, stopping them from aiding the Aedin blocks. Then the Forgotten had sent the bulk of their armies against the High Aedin. The place of weakness.
It made basic strategic sense. You committed most of your troops to the conflict where they could inflict the greatest casualties. The entire attack had been designed to leave the High Aedin and Aedin troops open, and it had worked perfectly. The worst part was, the Imperium forces hadn’t understood that the High Aedin were their weakest point. That was why the battle had been such a disaster.
By the Twins… . Raeth thought, realizing something chilling. The Forgotten had known just how to attack, had known just how the Aedin armies would position themselves. Not only that, the creatures had moved with skill and direction. They weren’t just monsters, they were clever. Intelligent. And they understood the Imperium.
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