The Gates of Memory

by Ryan Kirk

  She sat up and opened her eyes, looking for places her sense of the humans might have come from. Up ahead she saw several outcroppings of rock that would serve as excellent cover. She described the one she thought hid the ambush, careful not to stare.

  “How certain are you?” Jace asked.

  “A little.”

  Jace looked to Toren. “Thoughts?”

  “The ambush we expect is better than the one we don’t. If we go around, they’ll likely try again, and with more caution.”

  Jace nodded.

  She could almost see him planning their next moves. In times like these, his leadership came to the fore. Alena smiled as he effortlessly assumed command of the trio. “I’ll stay close to Alena. They’ll attack with bow first, and with any luck I can deflect or dodge any that get close. Toren, we’ll rely on your stones to counter them.”

  Toren signed his agreement, and Jace had now learned enough of the sign language to understand.

  “Our destination is the outcropping below the path. Alena can take cover there while we attempt to fend off the ambush. Alena, did you get any sense of how many there were?”

  She shook her head. “At least two, but there could be more. I barely sensed them.”

  “Excellent.” The sarcasm dripped from his voice.

  They stoppered their waterskins and continued. Toren reached into the pouch at his hip and withdrew a few stones. He clutched them in his hand, not setting them spinning yet. Once he did, those stones would be their best defense against a Falari attack.

  The closer they came to the outcroppings, the more certain she was of her guess. Not because of her soulwalking, but because the boulders were an ideal place for an ambush. The rocks above them provided ample cover, and the path they walked had none for almost fifty paces.

  Though she expected the attack, her heart still skipped a beat when a line of Falari archers rose like ghosts from their hiding spots, arrows trained on them.

  Alena possessed no defense against archers, so she dove to the ground as arrows sliced the air overhead. Jace sidestepped two. He took a step forward, then froze when another set of archers appeared from the outcropping of rocks Jace had identified as their destination.

  Like Jace, Toren stood his ground. Alena didn’t see him launch the stone, but she heard a cry from above. He’d at least injured one of the Falari attackers.

  Alena swore. There were too many opponents for their small group to survive.

  Her reaction was instinctive. She dropped from the physical world into a soulwalk.

  Alena had no plan. But she couldn’t defend herself against the nearly dozen archers in any other way.

  Soulwalking was where her true power lay.

  Time altered, the space between her heartbeats extended.

  She darted along the threads that connected her to one of the archers above.

  In a moment she understood the archer. The third son of a well-respected family, she saw the ways in which he tried to prove himself. He wanted to become as well-regarded as his oldest sister.

  Alena almost smiled. The parallels to Jace’s life were impossible not to see.

  But no obvious path of compulsion appeared. The technique only worked if there was something to latch onto, some unspoken desire that she could form into an obsession. This young Falari was filled with nothing but righteous vengeance and patriotic duty to defend his home from invaders. He possessed no secret that aided her.

  Alena didn’t allow the panic creeping into her mind a foothold. In this world, she still had time.

  The next Falari she examined had a much richer backstory. She was a young woman, and she possessed a tight bond with one of the Falari in the outcropping in front of Alena’s party.

  And it wasn’t a bond of friendship.

  The Falari woman had been wronged by a woman in the other group. Alena saw flashes of a young man and a long friendship broken.

  Alena couldn’t have asked for better material to work with.

  Alena found the necessary memories and brought them to the front of the Falari archer’s mind, intertwined with other thoughts.

  She betrayed me.

  Is my friendship worth so little?

  No one will know. It was in battle.

  Alena pushed energy into the traitorous thoughts, making them all-consuming, then rode the woman’s soul as she turned her bow onto the Falari in the lower outcropping. The shot was open, the Falari unconcerned about betrayal from their own war party.

  Alena knew the thoughts she’d inserted didn’t make sense, but they didn’t have to. Emotions alone mattered, and the justifications came later. Such was always the way of humans, though they didn’t realize it.

  She only held onto the soulwalk long enough to make sure the shot was released.

  Then she returned to the physical world, connecting to the gatestone near her navel. Her strongest affinity, by far, was mental. But second was air. She summoned a gust as a second volley of arrows was launched at them.

  Alena put everything into her affinity, but the effect was pitifully weak. One arrow embedded itself in the dirt next to her, its flight barely affected.

  But then confusion fell upon the Falari.

  The woman Alena soulwalked into might have believed no one would notice, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. The Falari realized what had happened in a moment, though they knew not the reason why.

  From the outcropping in front of them came a strangled cry of grief, and Alena saw a young man fall to his knees.

  In the next heartbeat the same young man stood tall, an arrow nocked and aimed at the outcropping above Alena.

  He released, and Alena knew their moment had come. “Follow me!” she yelled.

  She made herself light and dashed toward the outcropping ahead of them. A single arrow passed behind her, but the attention of the attackers had been torn.

  Alena launched herself at an archer, both feet aimed at his unprotected chest.

  She wasn’t nearly the martial artist her brother was, but she wasn’t completely useless, either. Her kick landed solidly, knocking the archer back into a sharp boulder behind him.

  Alena landed on her side, groaning as sharp rocks cut her hip. She looked up to see another archer bringing his drawn bow down so the arrowhead was aimed at her chest. At this distance she had no hope of evasion.

  Then Jace was there, his sword cutting through the drawn arrow.

  Alena couldn’t convince her body to move. Jace drew every bit of her attention, his strength finally brought to bear against an enemy he could fight.

  His sword was an extension of his hand, and when it moved it brought death with it.

  Alena almost felt sorry for the archers. At a distance, they’d had Jace at a disadvantage. But up close, he finished them in two heartbeats, done before the first body had even hit the ground.

  She adored her younger brother.

  But she felt a fear of him, too. A fear she hadn’t felt for years.

  An arrow skipping off a boulder beside her focused her attention on their current predicament.

  Where was Toren?

  Alena forced herself to hands and knees, keeping her body behind a boulder. Her eyes found Toren.

  He had not followed the siblings, but instead stood his ground. Focused on him, Alena saw the spinning stones before he launched them into the outcropping above.

  Toren’s assault was methodical. He launched whenever he saw any exposed Falari. By himself, he had pinned down the rest of the ambushers.

  Jace realized the same, and a moment later he was sprinting up the hill. Alena felt a small sense of satisfaction that she was still faster than her brother, but that satisfaction vanished when his sword went to work.

  Alena turned her eyes away from the scene that followed. As soon as her brother safely reached the last of the Falari, the outcome was never in doubt, and she struggled to reconcile the warrior her brother was with the boy he had been. Jace had always loved to fight, b
ut there had been something endearing about it when he’d been a boy.

  His skill held no such attraction for her anymore.

  Her eyes traveled to the Falari who had fallen among this outcropping. There were four men and two women, but only one of the dead had an arrow through her chest.

  Alena recognized her.

  Soulwalking unveiled memories, and those memories carried an emotional weight.

  Alena’s first reaction when she saw the body was a cold satisfaction. The woman had betrayed her and earned her just reward.

  She grimaced.

  No. This woman had never wronged her. Those thoughts weren’t Alena’s, but a nameless Falari warrior now falling to her brother’s blade, or to Toren’s stones.

  A chill settled over her bones, causing her to shiver. Who was she to judge Jace for his ability? He’d met bow with sword, and on this occasion had emerged triumphant. But there was an honor, at least, to that. Alena might not have released the arrow, but she’d killed this woman all the same.

  And she’d done it through the hands of a former friend.

  Jace wasn’t the monster here.

  She was.

  31

  Three long days passed without incident. Regar met with a constant stream of guests, but rarely left his quarters to do so. It left Brandt and Ana with little to do.

  They didn’t leave their own rooms much. Food was provided for them and neither felt particularly comfortable wandering Faldun on their own. They spent most of their time in bed, making up for the time lost on the road.

  As pleasant as the time was, Brandt welcomed the eventual knock against their door. He rose and answered, his hand at his sword. Ren stood framed in their doorway, the early afternoon sun bright in the valley beyond. He appeared solemn. “It’s time.”

  “The elders?”

  “They request your presence as well.”

  Brandt looked down at his clothes. They were those he had traveled in, and although they’d been washed, they were still tattered and well-worn. “Am I presentable?”

  A hint of a smile played across Ren’s face. “The elders will not judge you based on your clothing. Of that, you can rest easy.”

  “May I carry my sword?”

  Ren frowned. “Of course. Why would you not?”

  Brandt smiled. “If there is ever true peace between our lands, Ren, I’ll have to introduce you to imperial customs.”

  “I am not certain such an education would be enjoyable.”

  Brandt and Ana followed Ren through the city. Brandt kept his eyes moving, searching rooftops, stairs, and corners for potential assassins. Faldun was an architectural wonder, but its design also made it nearly impossible to spot an ambush.

  Ren shared the same concern. Brandt saw it in the careful step of his friend.

  They eventually turned into a narrow hallway carved deep into the mountain. Guards stood outside. Torches, placed at long intervals, lit the way. Ren relaxed once they were in the hall.

  They followed the hallway into the mountain, eventually coming to a branching path. Ren walked the tunnels with easy familiarity, and Brandt found some of the warrior’s relaxation creeping into his own posture. The tunnel itself drew his attention, and in time, he asked Ren to pause for a moment so he could examine the walls more carefully.

  He and Ana ran their hands along the walls. Script decorated the stone, carved with a precision no chisel could achieve. It almost looked as though the stone had been melted away by a calligrapher’s brush. “Does this look like the same script?” he asked.

  Ana knew he referred to the caves outside Landow. She squinted. “It does, but that’s no surprise. Who else could have built these?”

  Brandt turned to Ren. “Can you read these?”

  Ren shook his head. “It is the language of those who came before. The study of such script is forbidden.”

  The warrior looked more uncomfortable than Brandt had ever seen him.

  Out of sympathy, Brandt motioned for them to continue. “Why?”

  “Some knowledge is better left buried. It is why none but elders and their guests are allowed in these tunnels.”

  Ren took them through several more turns, straining Brandt’s memory. He remained certain he could leave this place on his own, but the task became more challenging with every turn.

  The air here was cold and damp, the torches doing little to disguise how deep under the mountain they traveled. In places, holes brought in fresh air, though Brandt could see no light through them.

  Their journey ended in a large antechamber, perhaps two dozen paces wide. Torches ringed the circular room, and Brandt was surprised to find Regar already there.

  If Regar was nervous, it didn’t show on his face. He greeted Brandt and Ana warmly. “Were you summoned, as well?”

  “I was,” Brandt replied. “To what end, I’m not certain.”

  “You are my Senki. Your word will carry nearly as much weight as my own in there.”

  Brandt looked to Ren, who confirmed the prince’s statement.

  “What do I say?” Brandt asked.

  “The truth,” Regar replied. “The burden is still mine, Brandt. You are just a tool they will use to judge me by.”

  Brandt wasn’t sure he appreciated the label, but before he could complain, a woman summoned the prince.

  “Fight well,” Brandt said.

  “Always,” said Regar.

  With that, Regar stepped into the next room, leaving Brandt and Ana with little to do. Brandt felt woefully underprepared for the task he was now called for. “What is it I’m expected to do in there?” he asked Ren.

  “Obey your warleader. Tell the truth. Do not think of this as some battle that must be won, Brandt. That will happen only among the elders. But they see with wisdom. Simply be present as you are and leave the rest to them.”

  “You hold your elders in high regard.”

  “The highest. The individuals each possess strengths and weaknesses, as do we all, but there is a higher wisdom that emerges from this chamber. They have guided us well for hundreds of years, and they have earned our trust.”

  Brandt looked around the antechamber, clearly worked with a skill beyond the ability of the current Falari masons. Beyond the ability of all living masons. He thought out loud. “I do not understand, Ren. Your elders meet in this space, made by those that came before, yet you do not permit the study of those same people. Why not?”

  “You have no such prohibition?”

  “Quite the opposite. Our first emperor destroyed as much history as he could, so little is known of the times before the rise of our empire. Our current emperor desperately searches for clues from the past.”

  This information seemed to trouble Ren. “Our legends tell us that those that came before possessed an incredible power. A strength that brought them untold wealth and ease, but also attracted powerful enemies. It is said their power almost broke the world. Our elders meet in these chambers to remember what is possible, and to avoid that same outcome.”

  “They are frightened of the power of those that came before?”

  “Very. Are you not?”

  Brandt shook his head. “Think of the good that could be done with abilities like these.” He gestured to the room.

  “Good easily matched by the possible harm.” Ren stepped closer to Brandt. “Tell me, if that power was offered to you, would you accept it?”

  “I would.”

  Ren gave him a sad smile. “Then I am sorry to say that I hope such power is never offered to you.”

  Ren turned away, ending the conversation. Brandt watched him make his retreat, feeling more like a foreigner than ever before.

  In his confusion, he barely noticed as the door opened and Regar stepped out. Brandt couldn’t tell a thing from the look on his face. “Your turn,” the prince said.

  Brandt stepped through the door to the chamber, then froze as he looked upon the expansive space. Though he’d had no particular reason, he’d expec
ted the chamber of the elders to be small. Instead, it was far larger than any underground space they’d passed on the way here. Like the antechamber, it was a perfect circle, except the ceiling was three times his height.

  But the size wasn’t all that caught his attention. Both the floor and ceiling were covered in the symbols Brandt now recognized as the language of those that came before. The ones above glowed with an otherworldly blue light that reminded Brandt a little of the glow of the gates. An involuntary shudder ran through him. The impossible light was all that lit the space—no warm or familiar torchlight flickered here.

  Standing around the edge of the circle were dozens of men and women, all well older than Brandt. The elders of the Falari. He’d only expected a handful, but to see so many gave him pause. Each stood on a smaller circle carved with a single symbol. At times, light flickered underneath their feet, the symbols sputtering light in patterns of timing and color Brandt couldn’t comprehend.

  Though he couldn’t say why, this room felt different, too. The air lacked the chilly, damp feeling from the tunnels. It felt like a spring day, warm and full of the promise of new life.

  How he’d drawn that comparison so far under the stone, Brandt couldn’t say.

  The door closed behind him, leaving him alone with the elders.

  Brandt searched for the leader, but found no one that stood out. He guessed there were over sixty people in the room, but nothing he could see identified anyone as special among them.

  A woman wearing dark robes gestured for Brandt to step toward the center of the room. “Please stand within the center of one of the circles you see.” Her voice was soft, but still it sounded like she stood right next to him.

  He followed instructions, finding seven circles near the center of the room. Each possessed the same symbol as the circles the elders stood on. What power was at play in this room?

  Unfortunately, he’d come too far to have much choice in the matter. He stepped into the circle, relaxing when nothing happened.

  “Thank you for speaking,” a voice said. Again, it was soft, as though spoken directly in front of him. But no one stood within fifteen paces of him. He couldn’t tell who had greeted him.