“All respect given, your majesty, I am not so certain.”
Raeth fell silent. “Tell me one thing, Shateen,” he said. “Why did you save me? I was one of those consenting to your execution. Why rescue me like you did? Why not let the creatures take me?”
“You are not to be blamed for your fear, Lord Hern,” Shateen explained. “I was human once, though it was many years ago. I can remember fear, misunderstanding. I would be frightened of the Shentis too.”
“That doesn’t explain why you saved me,” Raeth pointed out.
Shateen paused, leaning and blacking his back against the bars, looking up at the top of the cell.
“When I lived,” he finally said, “I did not live well. I told you of my life as an orphan, of the hatred and shame I felt. Then, I was taken away. Taken by the Shentis and brought to a place where I was loved and cared for.” He turned, looking Raeth in the eyes. “Why did I save you, your majesty? Because it was the right thing to do.”
“You can do that again,” Raeth said. “Nothing stops these creatures. Weapons barely hurt them, and even if we do slay them they just get reborn from the pool again.”
“I can’t help you with that, your majesty,” Shateen said.
“Yes you can,” Raeth corrected. “Just tell me this. Do you know of a place where Verdant can be found, a place where it grows? A source of the Aether?”
Shateen paused. “Yes,” he finally answered.
“Where?”
“The Shentis village,” he said. “We’ve always known about it.”
“I need you to take me there,” Raeth said. “There might be a way to stop the creatures.”
Shateen shook his head. “I can’t, Lord Hern. Please understand. Our secrecy is the only think that has kept us alive through the centuries.”
“I’m afraid you don’t have a choice but to tell me,” Raeth said quietly.
“Why?” Shateen asked. “Will you threaten me? Torture? Will you bring the darkness again, like you did last time?”
“No,” Raeth said. “None of that. I just want you to consider one thing. What happens to your people when the Imperium falls? What will happen if the creatures destroy us all? Tell me, Shateen. Where will the Shentis replenish their numbers if the people of the Imperium are slaughtered?”
Shateen started, his eyes widening slightly. Raeth knew his words were a partial lie—the Forgotten didn’t want to destroy the entire Imperium, just half of it. Shateen, however, did not know that.
“There will be people left,” the ambassador defended.
“Probably,” Raeth agreed. “Straggling groups. Nomads. How will you convince them to give you their children? How will you even find them? The creatures will be hunting them too, you know—they may even start hunting you. The Shentis may be well-hidden, but you don’t know the Forgotten. They’re merciless. They don’t stop, and they’re stronger, tougher, and more resilient than any human.”
Raeth turned, taking a step closer to the cell, holding Shateen’s eyes. “Like it or not, Shateen, your future is directly tied to ours. Without the Imperium to provide easily-accessed orphans, your people will die out.”
“A…compelling argument,” Shateen finally admitted. “But an irrelevant one. The village is many day’s travel from here. You said the creatures are arriving soon—we wouldn’t be able to get there in time.”
“You forget the Sending,” Raeth said.
“None of your Vo-Dari have been to the village,” Shateen said, shaking his head. “They can’t Send you there.”
“They might be able to Send us someplace close, however,” Raeth said. “The creatures won’t arrive until tomorrow, and that is just this city, which will be evacuated soon. We have time. Not much, but it’s there.”
Shateen closed his eyes, whispering something Raeth couldn’t hear. “All right,” he finally said. “But you only. We’ll have the Vo-Dari Send us to the area, then I’ll lead you the rest of the way. And, I will have your word that you will not reveal the location.”
“I am emperor,” Raeth said. “I’m not foolish enough to go alone.”
“Two guards, then,” Shateen said. “Men you can trust.”
“Very well,” Raeth said. “You have my word that we will not tell. Now, let’s go.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Darro did not trust Shateen. Of course, he didn’t trust Shentis in general. Knowing more about them didn’t help, either—in fact, it hurt. Shateen had as much as admitted that the stories were true. Shentis did steal the life from people, propagating themselves by taking advantage of unsuspecting innocents.
That was why Darro had insisted that Raeth bring him. Stump or no stump, Darro was still the most powerful living Amberite Bond. Raeth was very clever, true, but he was also too trusting. His life in the Irae had taught him that people were generally kind and trustworthy. Darro’s life, one rife with political backstabbings and nights spent in dark bars, had left him with a slightly more discerning view.
Darro was half-expecting to find Shentis assassins waiting to suck their blood when the Sending resolved. Instead, all he saw was an empty village. Tessin was a farming community of moderate size, located about a week’s travel north of Vae Annitor. Its emptiness was not surprising—most of the northern villages had been evacuated.
Shateen materialized next, followed by Raeth and finally D’Naa. Darro still wasn’t certain it had been wise to bring the girl. Darro could think of any number soldiers trustworthy enough to take the third spot, but Raeth had been insistent. He claimed that the girls’ Verdant Bond was as strong as any High Aedin—a fact Darro still had trouble believing.
Four horses materialized a short distance away. They handled the Sending well—learning to be Sent was a vital part of any cavalry animal’s training.
“Well?” Raeth asked. “Where to now?”
Shateen turned to the east. “That way,” he said. “A half day’s travel.”
“A half day?” Darro demanded. “You couldn’t have had us Sent closer?”
“The further we ride by horse, my oversized prince, the less chance that Vo-Dari will have of guessing our true destination,” Shateen informed, swinging astride one of the horses.
“You’re taking us there,” Darro grumbled, accepting a horse’s reigns from Raeth. “Don’t you think secrecy is a bit ridiculous now?”
“Never can be too careful,” Shateen said affably. He took a deep breath, looking up into the bright sky. “Winter has passed on while I was in that hole,” he said, almost as if to himself. “I’d forgotten how wonderful it was out here.”
“A creature of darkness like yourself enjoying a spring afternoon?” Raeth asked, swinging unpracticedly into his horse’s saddle.
“Alas,” Shateen said, “I never did make a very good creature of darkness. I keep telling people my skin doesn’t do me justice, but for some reason I never get a very good response.”
“Maybe they’d heard that you liked to kidnap orphans and exchange blood with them,” Darro said, climbing into his horse’s saddle—Raeth had, fortunately, given him the biggest one, a massive war-horse with legs almost as squat as Darro’s.
The horse turned as Darro climbed on, regarding him with a look that almost seemed like a roll of the eyes.
“Yes,” Darro mumbled to the animal, “well I’m not to thrilled about the idea of riding you either.” Horses and he had never gotten along. He found them ill-tempered and smelly, and they most likely regarded him the same way. Raeth looked equally awkward astride his beast—both brothers had ridden horses before, of course, but with Corpates and the Sending, High Aedin rarely had to stoop to horseback.
D’Naa, however, seemed right at home. She patted her beast on the neck, then hopped spryly into its saddle.
“Let’s go,” Raeth said. “Time is valuable.”
Shateen nodded, turning his horse and leading the way out of the city. D’Naa and Raeth followed, as did Darro—but only after the horse turned the wrong w
ay several times, as if intentionally trying to aggravate him.
The trip quickly became monotonous. It was an odd feeling—their nation was in grave danger, and they were riding in a desperate search for information. However, horses could only move so fast, and they had a long way to go. Shateen rode at the front, obviously content to enjoy his sky and breeze. Raeth and D’Naa rode a few lengths behind, their horses pulled close together as they chatted quietly. Darro rode in the rear.
Darro looked around in his boredom, but the countryside was decidedly uninteresting. Northern Aedinor was a fruitful area, covered in lush farms and rich soil. Unfortunately, lushness and richness notwithstanding, farmland made for drab scenery. The land was a little more hilly than that around Vae Annitor, but there weren’t many trees. The mountains of the northern border were just barely visible in the distance, their snow-capped peaks marking the edge of the Imperium.
Eventually, with lack of a better option, Darro’s eyes fell on Raeth and the Kavir girl. They were speaking too quietly for Darro to make out what they were saying, but he got the feeling that it was a conversation that would not appreciate his presence. D’Naa laughed quietly to something Raeth said, her eyes looking up at him with fondness.
When did it happen? Darro wondered. He’d known about Raeth’s preference for the girl, but hadn’t realized it went beyond physical attraction. When had they found time to form a relationship? D’Naa had only been in Aedinor since the Festival of the Unremembered.
Yet, it was obvious something was happening between the two. Darro had been utterly shocked earlier when he had walked into Raeth’s rooms to find the two sleeping in the chair together. He knew, of course, that their actions were benign—Raeth would have been completely lost had it progressed further than that. Still, the discovery had been shocking.
As he rode alone behind them, Darro grudgingly admitted something to himself. There were emotions stirring within him. Jealousy. Not for the girl particularly—he still didn’t understand what Raeth saw in her. No, Darro’s envy was for what they had, something that had eluded him in all his years of carousing. True affection—a relationship that endured.
He’d had a lot of fun, but none of it had lasted more than a few weeks at the most. There was more to what D’Naa and Raeth had—he could see that, even though the speed at which it had matured baffled him. How had Raeth, who’d lived his entire life in a monastery, managed to do in one try what Darro hadn’t accomplished in a half-decade?
Somehow, Darro suspected his realization came in part from the changes he was seeing in himself. Before, he probably wouldn’t have noticed that what Raeth had was different than Darro’s relationships. If he had noticed, he wouldn’t have felt envious.
Something was different within him, something brought on by the wars, the acknowledgement of responsibility, and his shame over betraying Raeth. Darro wanted what Raeth had. Suddenly, the prospect of marriage didn’t look quite so daunting to him anymore.
However, it wasn’t likely to occur unless they saved the Imperium.
#
The ride passed quickly for Raeth—before he realized it, most the day had passed, and the sun was creeping toward the horizon. Shateen raised a hand, pulling them to a halt. Trees had grown more common as they rode east, the land raising slightly and the hills becoming more predominant as they approached what would eventually become the Kavir highlands. Directly to the east, the trees finally begun melding into what was known as the Kaldul Forest.
“The forest,” Raeth said, understanding.
“There aren’t many places to hide out on the plains, your majesty.”
Raeth nodded. Further to the south the forest was logged heavily for its lumber, but this portion was a little more out of the way. “It’s still dangerously close to settlements, Shateen. I’m surprised your people remained hidden for so long.”
“There aren’t many of us,” Shateen said with a shrug, “and few people come through this forest. The locals repute it to be haunted.”
“A sentiment I assume you encourage,” Raeth noted.
“Of course,” Shateen said with a smile.
“Hern,” D’Naa said suddenly, reaching over to rest her arm on his shoulder, “look up there.”
Raeth followed her nod, turning to the north. A dark shadow crept across the hills, moving south. There were no clouds in the sky.
Raeth shivered. “How can they move so quickly?”
“They’ll easily reach Vae Annitor by tomorrow at this rate,” Darro said from behind.
Raeth nodded. The Vo-Dari were going to Send scouts to Tessin every hour to check for their emperor’s return, but Raeth and the others would have to ride all the way back to the village first—another half-day wait, even assuming their business with the Shentis went quickly.
Raeth nodded to the forest. “Lead on,” he said.
Shateen stared at the distant tide of Forgotten for a moment before nodding and turning his horse toward a forest path and leading the way forward. The rest of them followed, Darro having trouble with his horse, as always. The woods were composed mostly of conifers, and weren’t thick, so riding was easy. However, glimpsing the Forgotten advance made everyone edgy, including Raeth, so D’Naa and he did not return to their conversations. Instead, they rode in silence, the only sound that of their horses’ footsteps.
“They should be spotting us any time now,” Shateen said after about a half hour of riding. Sure enough, Raeth soon saw movement in one of the trees ahead of them.
Shateen raised his hand, stopping the group. There was silence for a moment, then a rope dropped from the tree and a dark-skinned form slid to the ground.
“Shateen?” the man asked, stepping forward. His age was hard to judge because of the odd skin, but he looked to be in his early thirties.
“It is indeed,” Shateen said with a broad smile.
“You’ve betrayed us!” the guard said, backing away, his eyes frightened as they focussed on Raeth and the others.
“Afraid so,” Shateen said. “But, I didn’t really have much choice. Run and tell the elders I’ve returned.”
The Shentis man shot a dissatisfied look at Raeth, then did as commanded, turning and dashing into the woods, away from the path.
“Come on,” Shateen said, climbing off his horse and leading it off the path. “The trail is a diversion; it ends at a clearing about an hour from here.”
Raeth nodded, happy to be off the horse. He slid free, his legs stiff from the riding, and walked—awkwardly at first—after Shateen.
“You Aedin aren’t too fond of horses, are you?” D’Naa noticed, climbing down and walking beside Raeth.
Raeth shrugged. “They’re a useful, if archaic, means of getting around.”
D’Naa rolled her eyes. “Not everyone can have Corpates.”
“Not yet,” Raeth said, winding through the trees behind Shateen.
“What do you mean?” D’Naa asked. “You plan on making more? I’m surprised you have as many as you do—I wouldn’t think people, even Ferrous Bonds, would be too eager to get encased in metal.”
“They aren’t,” Raeth said. “Most Ferrous bonds become Nurturers—either that, or they’re important enough not to worry about what to do with their lives. But Corpates are immortal. In the early days of the Imperium, only the Emperor and the Senators had access to them. Over time, new ones have been made, and the old ones have remained. Eventually, there should be enough of them that anyone will have access. They’re already all over Aedinor—even some of the smaller villages have a couple for heating or one walker to act as transport between villages.”
“I hadn’t thought of that,” D’Naa mumbled. “So, why not offer them to Kavir? We could certainly use a few of those heaters.”
Raeth shrugged, frowning to himself. “I’m not sure why you don’t have any,” he admitted. “I guess we never thought to offer them—the Mahallens and the Khur refuse to make use of Aethers on religious principle, and the Shorriken don�
��t have their own subkingdom; they just live with us. I guess we just assumed you wouldn’t want them.”
“High Aedin do a lot of assuming,” D’Naa noted.
Raeth paused. “I guess we do,” he agreed. “It comes from thinking you’re the center of the world.”
“You know, you probably are,” D’Naa said, frowning. “But that doesn’t mean you should exploit the fact.”
“I’m working on it,” Raeth promised. “Unfortunately, other things keep getting in my way.”
“Like an army of angry ancestors?”
“Exactly,” Raeth said, smiling slightly. Up ahead, he could already see the thatchings of a simple village. Figures with dark faces were lining up, peering out at the approaching visitors.
“Stop right there!” a strong voice demanded.
Shateen paused. Raeth walked up beside him, then fell still. The one who had spoken was a tall, straight-backed man with a long white beard. He had aged eyes, but an imposing figure.
“You should not have brought them here,” the man announced, pointing at Shateen. “We cannot let any outsiders leave this wood with knowledge of our home.”
“Is that so, Elder?” Shateen asked, speaking with his customary lilt of affability. “So, you’d kill them? In cold blood?”
The Elder paused, lowering his hand. The rest of the crowd, perhaps fifty people, about a third of them children, watched in silence.
“You might notice,” Shateen said in a low voice, “that I’m not the only one of us who makes a poor ‘creature of darkness.’”
Raeth stepped forward, leaving his horse’s reigns with Darro. “My intentions are peaceful, Elder,” he promised. “I do not intend to let your secret out.”
“Who is this man, Shateen?” the Elder demanded. “He bears the cloak, and the air, of a High Aedin.”
“Ah,” Shateen said. “Not a High Aedin, but the High Aedin. Elder, allow me to present Hern, Emperor of the Aedinor Imperium.”
“Blessed Ancestors!” the Elder said, backing away slightly in surprise. It was an odd oath to hear pass his lips.
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