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 rear guard-toward the portal the halfling 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 n-dssha 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.
The emperor’s movements were slowing now, the wrath fading. He had struck down all of his opponents and, in normal battle, his sword would have been red with blood. However, the undead had no blood, and all their blades had remained clean.
Aedan’s arm was tired from slashing and hacking for what seemed like hours. The muscles in his shoulder
burned with exertion, and he was breathing heavily.
But though the Anuirean numbers dwindled rapidly as the troops passed through the portal, so did those of the undead, falling aflame. Aedan cleaved one burning attacker from head to waist with a powerful stroke of his heavy blade, and the force of the blow almost made him fall from his saddle. Now there were no more of them within close reach, and he quickly turned back toward the emperor.
Michael had disposed of the last of his opponents, and though some still advanced through the trees, staggering on even though their bodies were in flames, there were none within reach. Aedon saw Michael slump, supporting himself with his sword, and knew the wrath had passed.
