“You’re implying that the Forgotten employ spies?” Alaethis asked with a frown, his proud High Aedin face betraying an unusual amount of emotion. Perhaps it was the early hour.
“I imply nothing except that I want my plan to remain where it is,” Raeth said. “In my head. I don’t know how the creatures would react to knowing what I intend to do—I don’t know if they could react—but I think it’s better not to give them the opportunity.”
His words were met with barely-concealed scowls. None of them challenged him directly, however. Ever since Gaedin had promised the Counsel’s support, its members had been doggedly loyal to Raeth’s will. They didn’t like being led in the dark, but they would follow nonetheless.
“All right,” Raeth said with a nod. “The evacuation should begin about three hours past noon. By then I’ll be done with the Vo Dari, and our forces will be engaged. Even in the worst case, the creatures shouldn’t be able to reach Vae Annitor until nightfall.
“You’re going to wait that long to engage?” Gaedin asked. “They’ll practically be through our gates by then.”
“I know,” Raeth said.
The generals regarded each other with concern. When no further information was forthcoming, they quietly rose from their seats to follow Raeth’s commands. Several would organize the army, pulling it back and arranging it for conflict a short distance outside Vae Annitor’s walls. It felt odd to be abandoning the city’s fortifications—mostly-ceremonial though they were. However, the Forgotten jumping ability had long ago shown that walls afforded little protection.
He’d put three generals in charge of mobilizing the people for evacuation. They resented the placement—it wasn’t very martial in nature. However, their war experience had prepared them for moving large masses of people, and Raeth suspected their presence would help calm the city’s remaining occupants. Besides, there wouldn’t be much for them to do on the battlefield until the engagement actually occurred.
It will work, Raeth told himself. It’s desperate, but it will work. And, even if it doesn’t, the people will still be able to get out of the city in time. We have nearly a thousand Vo Dari—they can Send the remaining population of Vae Annitor in a couple of hours.
General Gaedin and two others would come with Raeth, to begin actuating the first part of his plan. It was time to make use of a group of soldiers whose potential had been sorely underused during the entire campaign.
#
“Archers?” Gaedin asked.
“Yes,” Raeth said, inspecting the group of bowmen in the growing light. Dawn would arrive soon, and with it the awakening of the Forgotten. There were barely five hundred archers present—their units had been dissolved weeks before and used to fill increasingly large deficiencies in regular foot units, and the fighting had taken its toll on them like it had every other group of men.
They’ll have to do, Raeth though. They’re all we have.
“My lord… .” Gaedin said slowly, following Raeth as he inspected the lines. The men looked as tired as Raeth felt, but they were obviously happy to have their bows back.
“Yes, general,” Raeth said.
“We tried archers before, my lord,” Gaedin explained. “Arrows have no effect on the creatures. In fact, the Forgotten just ignore them.”
“That is what I’m counting on,” Raeth said, turning to the group of Vo-Dari standing a short distance away. What would we do without you? Raeth wondered, staring at the white-robed men. Without the Vo-Dari, there could have been no constant retreat, no careful planning of attacks—especially not in the winter. There could be no meticulous War Counsel, directing troop movements from afar.
“Here’s what we’re going to do,” Raeth said loudly, speaking so that the leaders of both archers and Vo-Dari could hear him. “As soon as it’s light, I want the Vo-Dari to Send the archers to a position several hundred feet in front of the Forgotten. Begin firing as soon as the creatures are in range.”
Vo-Dari and archers alike nodded in understanding.
“As soon as all of the archers are Sent,” Raeth said, “I want the Vo-Dari to Send themselves to the same position—one Vo-Dari per archer. When the creatures get to close, Send the archers back another hundred feet, then hop over to join them.”
A few of the archer captains frowned slightly. “And, how long are we to continue this, my lord?” one asked.
“Until you can’t retreat any further,” Raeth said firmly.
Raised eyebrows. “But, my lord,” the captain said. “That will take hours.”
“I know,” Raeth said. “I want so many arrows to fall on those Forgotten that they look like pricklebushes by the time they reach Vae Annitor.”
“We’ll run out of arrows, my lord,” another archer noted.
“No you won’t,” Raeth said. “We haven’t used archers this entire campaign—we have an enormous store. Beyond that, I’ve had the fletchers working all night. If that still isn’t enough, I’ve gathered a group of several hundred men with wounded arms or hands. They, along with the rest of the Vo-Dari, are going to follow behind the creatures and gather up all of the spent shafts so you can reuse them.”
Archers and Vo-Dari alike regarded each other with trepidation. Going through that many Sendings would be difficult on the stomach and the mind, not to mention the continued firing of the bows.
“I thought you were tired of being treated like regular footsoldiers,” Raeth guessed, speaking to the archers. “I thought you resented the fact that your talents were going to waste while your empire collapsed.”
The archer captain nodded in agreement. “That much is true, my lord. We’re archers, not swordsmen. Seems all we’ve been doing this entire war is act as sheaths for Forgotten blades.”
Raeth nodded. “Then here’s your chance to do something. This is our last chance, men, the last hour. If we don’t stop the creatures now, the capital will fall. I don’t intend to let that happen.”
Raeth saw a hint of something in their eyes. Surprise. They assume Vae Annitor is lost. Well, I won’t let them give up. Not yet. Not until Forgotten feet walk the streets of the capitol.
“Yes, sir!” the captains said, saluting.
“Get to it, then,” Raeth said. “It’s almost dawn.”
The archers moved, the Vo-Dari following behind less enthusiastically. Gaedin stood at Raeth’s side, frowning as usual.
“I don’t see what this will accomplish,” the general said simply. “I don’t care how many arrows you poke them with, the creatures aren’t susceptible to such minor wounds. You have to cut them with a gash as long as a man’s forearm to drop them.”
“That doesn’t matter,” Raeth said, turning eyes north. Snow still clung in isolated clumps across the plains, despite the growing warmth. “I don’t want to drop them, general, just weaken them.”
“I don’t understand,” Gaedin said.
“We’ve been playing to the creatures’ strengths, general,” Raeth explained. “Even though we didn’t know it. We plan our battles carefully, picking strategic locations. However, despite everything, we’ve been treating the creatures like we would human opponents. We always attack later in the day—standard strategy against human foes, who would be tired from their extended march. We favor shorter conflicts, because two short battles will usually slow them down for less casualties than one extended one. We fight, we retreat. We fight, we retreat. We fight, we retreat. It’s standard attrition tactics—we’ve been trying to wear them down.
“The thing is, general. They don’t wear down. They heal completely at night, and they don’t get tired from marching. Even after all this time, we act like we’re fighting normal men.”
“But, aren’t we doing the very same thing today?” Gaedin argued. “We’re attacking later in the day, and we’ll fight a short battle, just long enough for the city to evacuate.”
“No,” Raeth said. “Today we fight with a different strategy.”
#
D’Naa’s hor
se followed closely behind the others in the group, shuffling along the road toward the trading city of Dareen. Elekar might have been the capitol, but Dareen was Kavir’s true hub. Since it housed the only Aedinor Irae temple, most of the Aedin and Shorriken foreigners chose to live within the city for religious reasons, and their presence attracted Mahallen traders and Kavir herdsmen alike. It was little wonder that Ala’D had chosen to coordinate his efforts from there. Once the Imperium fell, he would probably move the capitol out of necessity.
If the Imperium falls, D’Naa, not when. It was hard to remain positive, however, in the face of her relatives. There was a general feeling of acceptance from Ala’D and his counselors. The Imperium was doomed; Kavir was on its own. Most of then thought the division a good thing.
But, they didn’t understand, not like D’Naa did. She pulled her cloak closer against the wind, huddled upon her mount like a bag of luggage. The trip would have been far easier on a Corpate—she had seen several with tent-like constructions on their top platform. One could travel in confront and leisure. Her people didn’t know the wonders they were abandoning with the fall of the Imperium.
Wonders most of them have never seen, D’Naa reminded herself. What good were the Aethers to Kavir? Aedinor might as well fall, for all the good it was doing her people.
Yet, despite such thoughts, D’Naa couldn’t help feeling regret. There was so much potential, so many beauties and feats. Surely there was a way to bring them to Kavir? Perhaps she could have found a way. Had she… .
Had she what? Had Hern chosen her to be his bride? She had accepted the fact that, even if she hadn’t left, such would have never occurred. What good could she have done?
All of those beautiful buildings, burned. All of those people, destroyed. Aedinor wasn’t a paradise, but with its Aethers feeding the masses, it had been as close as D’Naa had ever seen. People had time, time to actually live, rather than simply living to make time for others.
A muffled sound drew her attention, and D’Naa peeked through her pulled-up cloak, looking past the line of horses. There was snow in the air, but most of it was simply wind-blown off the ground. It was actually a ‘nice’ winter day in the highlands.
A rider was approaching toward them, his mount’s breath puffing out in front of it. He wasn’t riding horribly quickly. Ala’D raised a hand, calling a stop to the line, and several of his generals pulled up close to him protectively. Harrmen raids being what they were, caution was always exercised.
D’Naa pulled her horse out of line, nudging it forward. Her actions earned her a few looks of surprise from those she passed, but she ignored them. She pulled up next to Ala’D as the rider reigned in. The generals relaxed when they saw the man’s face.
“Who is it?” D’Naa asked.
“Just a messenger from Dareen,” the king said. “I asked for updates if anything important occurred.” He paused, shooting a look at D’Naa. “You’ve grown more bold during your time in Aedinor, cousin,” he noted.
“I’ve always been bold,” D’Naa said back, huffing slightly.
Ala’D didn’t reply, but he didn’t shoo her away, either, so she stayed at his side as he raised his hand again, putting the caravan back into motion. The messenger turned his horse and fell in beside the king, on the opposite side as D’Naa.
I’ve always been bold, haven’t I? She thought to herself. The king always sent me to help cities that had suffered raids, and he sent me to Aedinor to get the Aether. Are those duties you entrust to someone who isn’t bold?
“Well?” Ala’D asked of the messenger.
“The final attack has begun, your majesty,” the man explained. “The creatures should reach the capitol within the day, probably several hours before nightfall. The Emperor is organizing a final resistance to buy time for the city evacuation, but few think it will hold for long.”
Ala’D nodded understandingly.
“How do you know all of this?” D’Naa asked, frowning slightly.
“Those Aedin priests charge a ridiculous amount for their services,” Ala’D replied, “but they do have their uses.”
An Irae. Of course, that means Vo-Dari. The realization stunned her slightly. She could return. She could go back to him.
Fool, D’Naa thought. The Imperium is about to collapse and all you can think of is going back to the man who just rejected you? What good would you do anyway? One person, even if she is a Verdant Bond. . . .
One person. She was right, one person wouldn’t do any good. She wasn’t alone, however.
“How far are we from Dareen?” she asked suddenly, interrupting the messenger, who was telling the king of his family.
Both men fell silent. “At this pace? Five, six hours,” the king said.
“We have to go, Ala’D,” D’Naa said urgently.
“Go where?” the king asked. Behind, D’Naa caught a glimpse of Kaaln perking up, a frown on his aged face.
“To help him,” D’Naa explained. She turned, meeting her cousin’s eyes, trying to sound persuasive, like the diplomats from the Senate. “Can we really just sit and watch while the Imperium falls? Do you know how many people have died, and are dying, trying to defend us from these creatures? Do you know what they’re going through down there?” Images of Hern’s fatigued eyes flashed into her mind, along with sights of wounded soldiers, Sent back from the battle front.
“I know, D’Naa,” the king said. “But we can’t help them.”
“Can’t we?” D’Naa demanded. “How many Verdant bonds do we have? At least a couple hundred.”
“Closer to five hundred, child,” Kaaln said riding up beside her. “But we need them to defend Kavir.”
“Five hundred Verdant Bonds,” D’Naa said, “along with our military.”
“Farmers and sheep herders,” Ala’D argued.
“Men trained to fight off Harrmen raids,” D’Naa said back. “Men with real combat experience. The Emperor told me at least a half-dozen times that he could win this war if he just had more troops.”
“You can win any war with enough troops,” Kaaln said. “But I don’t see how our few could be of any help.”
“Besides, D’Naa,” Ala’D said dismissively, “I’ve said it already. We need our men to defend Kavir. Let Aedinor deal with Aedinor’s problems.”
“How can you say that?” D’Naa demanded, feeling her face flush despite the cold wind. “Ala’D, you’ve complained as long as I can remember that the Aedin don’t send you the troops you need to defend Kavir. And you were right; you’ve always been right. Can you honestly tell me that now, when the situation is reversed, you are going to do the exact same thing the Aedin have been doing to us all these years?”
Ala’D grimaced slightly at her words, his eyes troubled.
“You’re happy to be part of the Imperium when it suits Kavir,” D’Naa said quietly. “But you aren’t willing to give back when the need is reversed? Show them that you’re a better man than they expect you to be.”
Ala’D turned west, toward the Aedinor plains, so far away. “No,” he finally said. “We can not risk it.”
#
“This is your brilliant plan to save the Imperium?” Gaedin asked, all sense of decorum discarded in the face of total shock.
“Um, yes,” Raeth said.
“You want us to go on the offensive,” General Vaek said flatly.
“We hit them with everything,” Raeth said, gesturing at the map and its pieces. “So far, we’ve fought defensively. We’ve engaged and retreated constantly, never fully committing ourselves.”
“That is because,” Gaedin said, “we are at the disadvantage in both numbers and strength. We can’t afford to do anything else.”
“Not ‘doing anything else’ has nearly cost us our nation,” Raeth said. “Look at that map, gentlemen. An enemy force is within an hour’s march of Vae Annitor. An hour’s march! We are going to lose our homeland! Defense seemed logical, but it has failed.”
“That much, a
t least, is certain,” Vaek said. The youngest of the War Counsel, he was also one of the most competent. The others shared his emotion. Raeth could see the shame in their eyes—shame he himself felt.
“An offensive,” Gaedin said speculatively.
“They should be weakened from the arrows,” Raeth said. “They won’t be expecting a change in our strategy.” Raeth paused. “Besides, generals, tell me honestly. What reason do we have to hold back? If we fail now, what is left for us? Why not commit everything?”
There was a pause as the generals considered his words. Finally, Dorges, with his bald head and wrinkled face, spoke. “Why are you telling us this, your majesty? What about your supposed need for secrecy?”
Raeth paused, blushing slightly. “Because I’ve already given the orders. The soldiers are preparing for the offensive right now.”
“So we’re redundant,” Gaedin said angrily.
“No,” Raeth said. “You’re vital. Generals, if you don’t agree with this plan, then we can always change the orders.”
The twelve men regarded each other in silence.
“No,” Gaedin said quietly. For a moment, Raeth almost thought he saw a spark of humility in the man’s face. “You’re right.”
#
Darro fingered his glass locket quietly, staring out over the plains. Ranks of troops stood anxiously around him, many muttering silent prayers to the Ancestors. They had just been informed of Raeth’s orders. Attack. Fight until either every Forgotten is destroyed or every man has been slain. This time, there was no retreat.
It’s wrong, it’s all so wrong. When did everything start getting so crazy? He could see the tips of Vae Annitor’s buildings in the distance behind him. No enemy should ever have been able to get so close to the capitol. Men, many of them who had barely held a sword in their entire lives, shouldn’t be called upon to give their lives. None of this should have ever happened.
But it had. Darro looked down at his locket, filled with dark grains of sand. It was the one Raeth had made for him, before everything started, filling it with the sand of Darro’s Ynaa prayer for a good wife. It no longer represented matrimony to Darro, however. The locket was a sign of a previous time, a time when things had been right. A time before the spirits of the dead had attacked their descendants and a time before Darro had betrayed his most beloved of bothers.
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