by Ryan Kirk
Jace followed her, step for step. When she hesitated, he leaned closer. “I’m here. I’ll always be here.”
Alena nodded, took a deep breath, and took the final two steps toward the gate. She reached out her hand and touched it before she could convince herself it was unwise.
Nothing happened. Alena channeled no affinity at the moment, so it felt much the same as touching any other stone.
Except it wasn’t any other stone. Though thousands of cuts had formed the gate, it felt strangely smooth under her fingertips. She ran her finger gently over the surface, awed by the craftsmanship. No skill like this existed today. Even if Hanns ordered something similar built, it would never compare.
And it thrummed with energy. At times she could feel the vibration strong in her fingertips. Then it would fade until it was barely discernible, no stronger than a weak pulse. Perhaps Toren wasn’t so wrong. Perhaps it was alive.
Alena closed her eyes and dropped into the soulwalk, ready to explore what damage the queen had done.
She rode the wave of power, this connection with the gate made easier through her previous experiences. Her imagination shaped the dreamscape, resolving into the plains of Etar. Behind her, in another world, she felt Jace, and to a lesser extent, Toren.
And nothing else.
Alena scanned the horizon and searched the sky, searching for any sign of the queen. Where the Lolani ruler struck she left blackness and despair, sometimes obvious, sometimes less so.
Alena searched and found nothing. She searched harder, remembering the thin tendrils of power the queen had relied on in their last encounter. But even those couldn’t be found.
Frowning, Alena changed the landscape to the rooftops of Landow, then to the tent she and Jace had slept in last night. Each change flowed without resistance, and in no place did she sense the queen’s presence.
If the queen was responsible, her working on the gate was more subtle than any Alena had so far encountered.
Suddenly, her world bulged and erupted, a bubble of pure energy popping directly in front of her. The energy threw her into the air, reality warping like a blanket being shook free of dust.
She was helpless against the forces. Her own image was a part of this reality and it bent and warped the same as the rest. She felt molded and squeezed by inexplicable powers.
Alena screamed, the sound rising and falling in pitch as her world collapsed and expanded.
Smells assaulted her nose, some sweet and fragrant, others rancid.
Time lost meaning. One heartbeat passed quickly, then froze in the next.
Overwhelmed, something in her mind finally snapped. This was beyond understanding, beyond explanation. It simply was.
And then the disturbance passed. Alena crashed face-first into the ground. Her entire body quivered. Somehow she felt both cold and hot.
She broke her connection to the gate.
Beside her, Jace vomited on hands and knees, a small pool of bile created between his hands.
She wobbled, only to lose her balance a moment later.
Toren was there and she fell into his arms.
17
The Falari warleader introduced himself as Weylen. He appeared to find Prince Regar’s entourage an endless source of amusement, but for what reason, Brandt couldn’t tell. The man had an easy smile, but Brandt suspected that smile hid a dangerous mind.
Any worries about Regar’s composure in the face of the Falari soon vanished. Brandt had found the prince’s company on the ride to Falar pleasant. Now, as Regar navigated their initial negotiations with the war party, he understood the wisdom of the emperor’s choice. Though once their prisoner, Regar treated the warriors as he would his own soldiers. The Falari returned the respect in equal measure.
The initial meeting went almost entirely against Brandt’s expectations. Regar’s escape from Falar was a tale Weylen knew, and one Brandt now desperately wanted to hear. The Falari warleader almost seemed pleased to meet the imperial prince, and it didn’t take long for Regar to sort out the details of their onward journey.
Weylen led the combined parties into Falar. Brandt remained wary, though no one gave him the slightest cause for worry. By the end of the day they were deeper into Falar than Brandt had ever been. Imperial forces never reached this far.
If anyone had made it so far from friendly borders, they had never returned.
The terrain awed him with every vista. Snow-capped peaks loomed overhead as they made their way through evergreen forests. They walked past small glacial lakes and crystal-clear streams. They saw few people, and Brandt wondered just how populated Falar was. He hadn’t seen a single house or farm yet, though he supposed the terrain made farming difficult.
Two days later they reached an idyllic town nestled deep in a valley. When Brandt first saw it, he paused to study it more carefully. Never before had he seen a town that appeared so vertical. Everything from the homes to the streets were built from stone, and from a distance, buildings appeared to be stacked on top of one another. Ladders and the occasional rope bridge connected homes and shops, creating a confusing maze of options.
Beyond the construction, though, the town seemed much the same as any imperial village. Children ran in the streets while adults went about daily chores. The familiarity of it unsettled him. In his mind the Falari were different on some fundamental level. But the scene before him made him question that belief.
Weylen paused soon after and addressed the group. “Your prince has earned your welcome, at least for a time. But if any one of you so much as draw a sword within the village, all will be executed.”
Weylen ran his eyes over the group, making sure they understood. Then he turned and continued down the path.
Ana stepped close to Brandt and spoke softly, her voice barely carrying to his ears. “Does this seem too easy to you?”
Brandt nodded. He didn’t suspect duplicity, though. He believed the Falari would have just killed them if that had been their plan.
Brandt gestured toward Regar. “I suspect there is more happening here than we understand.”
Weylen stopped the group again at the boundary of the village. Faces poked out of windows, curious about the strangers. A lone man stepped from the assembling crowds, his expression eager. The man spoke with Weylen in Falari, a quick exchange that ended with both men smiling.
Weylen turned to the group. “This is Ren. He is the best sword in the village. He meets your prince’s challenge.”
Regar nodded, as though he’d expected this. The prince turned to his entourage. “No interference.” He didn’t even wait for acknowledgment, and just turned and faced this new enemy.
Brandt tensed when Regar drew his sword. Ren did the same, and the two men faced each other, six paces apart. The Falari noncombatants backed away, an action mirrored by the imperial contingent.
Brandt was the only one who stepped forward. He couldn’t let his prince duel with live steel. Not if he could help it.
“Brandt.” Ana’s voice froze him.
He hesitated, torn between Regar’s command and his desire to protect his prince, to do something helpful.
Ana tipped the scale. He respected her calm in these situations. Gritting his teeth, he stepped back and joined the others.
The Falari favored swords that were slightly shorter than the imperial standard, and had a slight curve. Traditionally, imperial sword schools taught fighters to use the greater length of the imperial sword to its full advantage against a Falari warrior. Unfortunately, the Falari expertise with and reliance on bows made the advice largely useless. Few imperial warriors ever got close enough to cross swords with the mountain warriors.
As before, the duel started without a formal announcement. Regar struck first, leading with the point of his sword. Ren swiped the blade away, and for a moment Brandt expected to endure a prolonged duel.
The next heartbeat proved him wrong.
Regar moved with a speed and strength Brandt hadn’t seen b
efore. Instead of a technical match, Regar simply overpowered his opponent.
Regar attacked again, and Brandt’s practiced eye saw Ren unbalanced by the strength of the blow.
The shift was slight, but it meant Ren couldn’t get in position to defend against Regar’s next strike, which flashed out, fast and precise.
The two combatants froze. Regar’s sword hovered a hair away from Ren’s chest. They stood like that for a moment, then Ren stepped away and put his right fist to his chest. Regar mirrored the movement and sheathed his blade. Brandt let out a long breath.
“You’ve improved,” Ren said.
“Thank you,” Regar replied.
Brandt and Ana’s eyes met. The two had met before?
When Brandt had the opportunity, he expected Regar to tell him a very long and detailed story.
Weylen welcomed them all to the village, reminding them once again never to draw a sword. He announced that beds would be made available. The town had no inn, so the imperial contingent would be welcomed into homes as guests.
Brandt stepped up to Regar. “Is this wise? Separated, we are far easier to ambush.”
Regar shook his head. “There is no need to worry. So long as no sword is drawn, you are safe in the village until tomorrow.”
“You sound certain.”
“I am.”
“You also said until tomorrow. What happens then?”
“The contest of the boards. The most serious of the three, I suspect.”
“What is it?”
“You’ll see.”
“That’s not particularly helpful.”
Regar smiled. “There’s nothing you can do to change the outcome, Brandt, so why bother yourself? If I win, I’ll answer your questions.”
“And if you lose?”
“Then I can answer your questions on the other side of the gate.”
Brandt growled at that.
Regar laughed. “Sorry, Brandt. But it’s easier this way. Trust me that you have nothing to fear tonight. Sleep well, and enjoy your wife’s company.”
Regar turned away, leaving Brandt standing alone and uncertain. He shook his head, then found Ana.
In time, Weylen introduced him and Ana to their host family, and as the sun set Brandt found himself a guest of the very people he once fought against, being treated to a savory meal. Fish from a nearby stream made up the heart of the meal, but they also enjoyed fresh bread and carrots. After so many days traveling, the meal was a feast.
Their hosts were kind, but their kindness didn’t make the meal feel any less awkward. Neither Brandt nor Ana spoke Falari, and their host family didn’t speak imperial. There were smiles all around, but the meal was eaten in silence.
After the meal, the family ushered them into a room filled with cushions. They poured drinks into tiny cups. Brandt accepted, then sniffed at the clear beverage. The aroma stung his nostrils. He must have made a face, because his hosts laughed at him. The father threw the entire drink down his throat at once and smiled, gesturing for them to do the same.
Brandt and Ana glanced at one another. Ana shrugged, smiled, and threw her drink back.
She coughed, and his hosts laughed harder. The laughter wasn’t unkind. The father poured Ana another drink.
Brandt frowned, then followed suit.
The drink burned all the way down his throat. He coughed hard, not nearly prepared for the strength of the drink.
Ana joined in the laughter, and Brandt soon lost track of the night.
After a few of the drinks he couldn’t find it in him to worry. Their hosts played music on stringed instruments and the moon rose overhead.
That night Ana guided him to bed. Their lips met, and between the drink and the abstinence of the road, Brandt’s inhibitions disappeared. She pushed him down onto the bed, and the rest of his memories dissolved into a pleasurable blur.
Nightmares woke him, and a splitting headache prevented him from returning to sleep. He watched the sun rise over the mountains, the sight almost making his suffering worth it.
Ana woke up much later. She grimaced as she did. She sat up and held her head in her hands, the covers slipping from her, reminding Brandt of the previous night. A groan escaped her lips. “Who hit me?”
Brandt grinned and sat down next to her on the edge of the bed. “I don’t think you would have noticed if someone did last night.”
She punched him lightly in the leg. “You’ve been up for a while?”
“Yeah.”
“Nightmares?”
“Yeah.”
“Sorry.”
He massaged her scalp, hoping it would do some good. As he did, he brought up the subject that had troubled him throughout the morning. “Do you ever feel useless?”
“Not often. Do you?”
Brandt nodded. “First it was with the emperor with the gates and the queen. Now it’s Regar. He planned all of this, but he’s not saying anything. Which means there’s nothing I can do to help him.”
“This was always his task, Brandt. The emperor made that clear. We’re here to keep him as safe as we can. And now it’s clear we had no reason to worry about him meeting with the Falari again.”
“We should be doing more.”
“No, we shouldn’t. We should be supporting Regar, in whatever way we can. You don’t always have to be the hero.”
“I—” Brandt stopped. He was no hero. He just believed in doing all he could.
Just then, a wave of nausea passed over him. His whole world twisted for a moment, bending and expanding. He held his head in his hands, waiting for the spell to pass. This was no hangover, but something far worse.
“Brandt?” He could hear the worry in Ana’s voice.
“Something’s happening to Alena.”
After a few long moments, the sensation passed. Brandt took a deep breath, then cursed. If he wanted to know what happened, he’d have to soulwalk again.
He could tell that she was still alive, though, so he pushed the matter to the back of his mind. They had more important problems right in front of them. Regar had only promised them safety until today.
They met with their host family to break their fast, enduring the knowing smiles of the family, then joined a growing crowd near the center of the village. A table had been set there. Three wooden boards rested upon it, as well as two containers of stones, one painted black, the other white.
“The boards,” he whispered to himself.
Before long, Regar came into the square and seated himself at the table. Weylen came and sat across from him. Each man raised a fist to their heart and the game began.
The rules of the game were beyond Brandt. Each player, with Regar starting, took turns playing a single stone on the board. There did seem to be exceptions where one player could place two stones, but Brandt didn’t understand. Stones could also be moved and captured. The game was played simultaneously on all three boards, and it seemed as though each board played by slightly different rules.
The crowd around the table grew closer as the game went on. Parents whispered to their children, pointing to moves each player made.
After some time, Brandt stopped trying to understand the game. The rules didn’t seem too complex, but there were just enough exceptions he couldn’t piece everything together. Instead, he watched the crowd.
The Falari were some of the greatest warriors he’d ever seen. Though he understood little, he did know that much of their society was bent toward warfare.
But it was easy to forget that even a society devoted to warfare would be a complex affair. Brandt didn’t think of families, food, and entertainment when he thought of the Falari. But they possessed all this and more.
Brandt hoped he made it back to the empire so he could share some of what he learned. He’d never expected to see a group of Falari townspeople gather around a board game.
A collective intake of breath brought Brandt’s attention back to the board. Weylen was nodding and looked impressed. Both player
s once again raised their fist to their heart and stood up.
Regar found them in the crowd. “You didn’t seem so eager to leap to my rescue this time, Brandt.”
“There’s nothing I could have done to help you with whatever that was,” Brandt admitted.
“I know the past few days have been difficult, but thank you for your patience. We’ve earned our audience with the elders.”
“You’ve earned our audience,” Brandt said.
Regar frowned. “Not at all. You’ve been tested just as much as I.”
“What do you mean?”
“Last night in town, the rings surrounding the combat, they’ve all been tests. Can my warriors follow orders? If even one person had drawn a blade last night or tried to sneak from a house, none of us would have woken this morning. And we wouldn’t have even made it into town if anyone had interfered with the duels.”
Brandt didn’t understand.
Regar saw as much. “In a way, you could consider it a fourth test, but one of my leadership. Would I be worthy of meeting the elders if I couldn’t even control my own soldiers?”
Brandt just shook his head.
Regar gave him a reassuring smile. “On the road I’ll explain more. I promise.”
Regar left them, and Brandt reached out for Ana’s hand. If not for her, he might have interfered, a decision with more dangerous consequences than he realized. “Thank you.”
She laughed and squeezed his hand. “Someone has to keep you from getting yourself killed.”
18
Alena sipped at her tea, hoping that in time her nerves would fade and she wouldn’t have to worry about spilling all over her lap. The tea served as an anchor, the warmth of the cup in her hands reminding her that she was real and whole.
Jace and Toren sat next to her, nursing their own cups. They both looked shaken, but not like her. Of the two, Jace was worse. Thanks to the bonds between them he had felt much of those agonizing moments. Even Toren, with his single thread, had felt some unease.
Sooni and Dunne sat across from them. Both women stared at her like she was a mystery to be solved.
