Aedan fought his way to Michael’s side, with Sylvanna and the others close behind him. They tried to form a protective ring about the emperor, but Michael was not cooperating. He did not remain still for an instant, turning his horse this way and that as the animal reared and plunged through the grisly ranks as flame and smoke rose all around them. Then Aedan felt a strong wind come up behind him, and as he felt it plucking at his clothes, he heard Gylvain’s voice within his mind.
“Futhark has opened a portal ahead,” he said. “The front ranks are passing through. Get the emperor and bring him back to the front while the rearguard fights a holding action!”
The wind passed on, circling the fighting, fanning the flames away from the main body of the troops and blowing them back at the undead.
“Sire!” Aedan cried out. “We have a portal! Hurry, Sire, come quickly!”
“Not until the troops are through!” Michael shouted back.
“Sire! For Haelyn’s sake, come on!”
A number of the men around them heard the exchange and shouted out for Michael to go back. Within moments, the cry was taken up in unison by everyone around them until the firelit night reverberated with the shouts.
“Roele back! Roele back!”
But before he could respond to the entreaties of his troops, disaster struck. As Aedan watched, horrified, Michael’s horse reared up, striking out at several advancing corpses with its hooves, and one of them plunged a spear into the animal’s belly. The horse gave out a shrill, whinnying cry of pain and went down hard. Michael tumbled from the saddle.
“No!” Aedan shouted, urging his mount forward, but several walking corpses blocked his way. He chopped at them frantically with his blade, trying to reach the emperor. The troops fighting closest to him saw it too, and the men surged forward, heedless of their own safety as they tried to reach him. But already Michael was encircled by at least a dozen of the undead, and Aedan could catch no glimpse of him as he desperately fought to reach him.
Suddenly, one of the undead near Michael was brought down, and then another literally went flying, hurled through the air with astonishing force. Another one went down, and another, and bodies were flying everywhere. Aedan reached Michael, who like a dervish lay about him with his blade, eyes wide, lips pulled back in a grimace of bestial rage, blood pouring from several wounds. He had unleashed his blood power of divine wrath, and Aedan knew there could be no reasoning with him till it was over.
It was beyond control, and in this godlike state of fearsome rage and bloodlust, Michael would smite friend and foe alike. The episode would not last long, for it called upon all the resources of the body, and when it had passed, it would leave him so exhausted he could barely move. But while he was caught in the grip of this overwhelming power, Michael was like an indiscriminate juggernaut of death, and Aedan did not dare approach him.
“Stay back!” he shouted to Sylvanna as she started to the emperor’s aid. She glanced at him, startled, then realized what had occurred when she saw Michael laying waste to the undead around him, snarling and growling like a cornered animal, oblivious of his wounds.
Among all the powers that had passed down to the blooded from the old gods, divine wrath was the rarest and most dangerous, for once it was unleashed, there was no stopping it until it ran its course. Those few who had it used it only as a last resort, and only in the most dire extremities because it was a power that possessed its wielder absolutely, releasing the feral beast within and magnifying it many times. It turned a human into a raging berserker incapable of rational thought or self-control, bent only on mayhem and survival.
Blood powers were not a certain thing. It was known which hereditary blood abilities ran within each line, but there was no way of predicting which ones would be inherited by any given offspring. The potential for all the blood abilities that ran within the line was there, but some remained latent, to be passed on and perhaps manifested by the succeeding generation. Some manifested themselves shortly after puberty, while others could remain latent for years, dormant until they suddenly manifested without warning.
In most cases, this was no cause for concern, as the majority of blood abilities could manifest themselves without risk to others. Heightened senses could suddenly appear, or animal affinity reveal itself through communication with a totem beast, or iron will appear, or the power to heal. Such abilities did not expose anyone to danger. But others, such as the power to raise elementals or manifest divine wrath, or—in the case of those bloodlines that came down from the evil Azrai—commute decay through touch, could cause injury or death.
The first time Michael had released his divine wrath in battle, he had done so unintentionally. He was sixteen then, and the army had been attacked by gnolls one night after it made camp. The feral demihumans, a species that appeared to be part man, part wolf, attacked them while they slept, butchering the sentries so quickly and efficiently that they never knew what hit them. The only warning that the sleeping army had were the screams of the first victims.
Michael had come out of his tent, bearing his sword, and was immediately attacked. And that was when it had happened. Suddenly, it was as if he had become a gnoll himself in all but physical appearance. Though he was just sixteen, several years of campaigning had put plenty of lean muscle on his frame. Still, Aedan was not prepared for what he saw that night.
Michael had suddenly stopped being Michael and instead became some demonic force, unstoppable and unrelenting. His features had become almost unrecognizable as they twisted themselves into a mask of bestial savagery, and the sounds that came from his throat were growls that were not even remotely human. He killed every one of the creatures that came at him. Afterward, the soldiers who had seen it spread the word, and Michael’s reputation grew. They all knew what it was. Many of them were blooded themselves, though in the entire army, no one else possessed that power. It was known to run only in the purest bloodlines of Anduiras, Basaia, and Masela, but only a few of the blooded ever manifested it. Aedan knew of only one other blooded noble who was known to have it—Arwyn of Boeruine.
This time, the soldiers recognized the state their emperor was in and did their best to move close enough to give him protection while at the same time keeping well out of his reach. In his state he would attack them as well if they got close enough. Aedan’s problem, aside from trying to survive himself, was that with Michael in this state, there was no way he could get him to the portal Futhark had opened back into their own world. He had no choice but to wait until the wrath had run its course, and then whisk Michael away. Once the wrath had faded, Michael would be helpless.
There was no time to pay attention to it, but with a quick glance behind him, Aedan saw that the troops had been withdrawing gradually as the battle had progressed. The tide of it had carried them forward—backward the way Aedan was facing as he fought in the rearguard—toward the portal the half-ling guide had opened for them. Ranks had formed on either side of it, protecting the opening as those in the middle moved through, and by now, most of the troops had already passed into it. They had formed into an inverted V formation, with the point of the opening of the V leading directly through the portal. Aedan was close enough to see it now.
All around them, the misshapen trees and scrubby undergrowth were in flames, fanned by Gylvain’s wind as he circled round and round, keeping the fire burning while at the same time blowing the flames away from the troops and toward the undead attackers. There were fewer of them than there were before, and the ground was littered with dismembered, flaming body parts that writhed and jerked. The portal behind them appeared as a swirling, opaque opening in the air, outlined by smoke and flame. As the troops poured through, only a few warriors remained now, along with the emperor’s mounted retinue, which would not leave without Michael. Aedan could not tell how much time had passed, but the sky was beginning to turn gray. The fire had spread outward from the battle, so that a wide swathe of forest was burning all around them, lighting up the area for a considerable distance and sending clouds of smoke into the air. As Aedan fought, with Sylvanna at his side, he glanced toward Michael every chance he got, when there was a moment’s respite.