The Gates of Memory

by Ryan Kirk

  “I am honored to be here.” Brandt didn’t know much of Falari customs, but politeness was never wasted.

  “What is your purpose here?”

  Brandt wasn’t sure if they meant him, specifically, or their larger task. He chose to take the question literally. “I’m here to protect Prince Regar on his journey.”

  “And what is Prince Regar’s purpose?”

  Brandt considered his response carefully. He didn’t dare say their purpose was to acquire the gate for the emperor. Now he understood just how volatile a subject that would be. But he also had no wish to lie. “He seeks your aid in fighting an enemy who threatens all our lands.”

  His words carried to every ear in the room. Though he spoke as to someone in front of him, there were no calls for him to raise his voice. The forces in this room unsettled him. He glanced down, seeing the symbols he stood upon flickering in unreadable patterns, just like those underneath the elders.

  “What, specifically, does Prince Regar seek?”

  He supposed it would always come to this. He hoped for the best. “Prince Regar seeks the gate on behalf of Anders VI.”

  “And what would Anders VI do with our gate?”

  “Fight the invaders.”

  “There have been no Lolani at our borders, and what do we care about the fall of the empire?”

  This was the first voice that spoke with emotion. The others had been curious, perhaps, but this one had an agenda.

  Ren’s advice had been to speak truthfully. So Brandt spoke as the soldier he’d once been. “If the empire falls, it will only be a matter of time until you do as well.”

  “A bold claim. We’ve resisted the empire for this long. Why not a foreign invader?”

  “With respect, elders, this is a force unlike any you’ve encountered before. Their warriors are skilled, relentless, and their affinities defy comprehension. I’ve fought both your warriors and the Lolani, and the Lolani frighten me more.”

  He feared he’d spoken too freely, but no elder argued his point.

  “You know that we do not control our gate, the way Anders VI controls his, and that we consider such control unwise?”

  “I do.”

  “You know why?”

  “You fear such power does not belong to us.”

  “What do you reply to that?”

  “It is a wise precaution. Great strength requires great control. But the power exists, and our need is great. Who among you would refuse to use a bow if Faldun was invaded? The gates are a tool. A tool of incredible ability. If they can save lives, I believe they must be used.”

  There was a pause, long enough for Brandt to worry he’d said too much.

  “You speak well. Regar’s Senki displays quality, and some of our own have voiced similar arguments. Answer this, then: why should we not just seize control ourselves and aid your emperor in that way?”

  Brandt wished for an enemy with a sword, now more than ever before. “I confess that my answer is but a guess. My own knowledge of the gates is imperfect. But I do not believe such aid will prevail. Anders VI already controls two gates and could not stand directly against the queen. If any Falari attempted to give aid with only one gate, they would fall. One does not send two novice swords against a master. One sends another master.”

  Brandt wiped a bead of sweat from his brow. This was not his battlefield.

  “You put a great deal of trust in your ruler. Such is commendable for a soldier, but is such trust wise? Should we trust a foreign emperor with such power?”

  “I do not know him well,” Brandt admitted, “but in my interactions I have always found him to be a man of honor. I trust him.”

  “And yet he oppresses your people with ruthless efficiency.”

  Brandt frowned. “I don’t understand.”

  “Do you not have many slaves?”

  “No.” Brandt was confused. The earlier line of questioning had been difficult enough, but this caught him unaware.

  “Do you not have wage-earners?”

  “We have those, but they are paid for their work.”

  “And if they do not work?”

  “The punishment is death.”

  “Do these wage-earners have the time and freedom to pursue their own skills and interests?”

  Brandt’s own parents had been wage-earners. He remembered nights when they came home exhausted from the menial work of the day. Watching them suffer in silence had been one of his primary reasons for joining the army. His parents had earned enough to keep a roof over their heads and food on the table, but nothing else.

  “No.”

  “Is dissent permitted within your empire?”

  Brandt shook his head. Private dissent was fine, and Brandt knew from his personal time with Hanns that the emperor didn’t mind criticism personally, but it couldn’t be tolerated in public. That was how rebellion spread.

  “So the consequence of disobedience is death, and they do not have the freedom to explore other paths, and they aren’t even allowed to speak out about their condition?”

  “No.” The confession felt like a blow to the stomach.

  “So how is that not slavery?”

  Brandt admitted he had no answer to the question. He knew the Falari perspective was wrong, but he couldn’t explain why.

  “So again we ask: You would have us trust a man who enslaves his own people?”

  Brandt had never been called on to defend the empire in this way. “Our people are fed and sheltered. Crime is punished, and most everyone lives in safety. Is that not desirable?”

  The elders didn’t answer Brandt’s question. Instead, the conversation shifted once again. “If we do offer this power to your emperor, will he return it?”

  Brandt almost answered “Yes” without thinking. But then he considered the question. Would Hanns return that much power? He could be the emperor who finally unified the continent. And what if the power wasn’t enough? Perhaps he needed the fourth in Etar.

  Brandt didn’t know the answer. The Falari had been a thorn in the empire’s side for almost as long as the empire had existed. Hanns was honorable, but his life was dedicated to the empire as a whole. Would he give up such a dangerous weapon once he possessed it?

  Still, Brandt couldn’t say as much here. If the elders didn’t think Hanns would return the gate, why would they part with it? “I believe he will, yes.”

  Silence greeted his answer.

  Brandt almost said more, then held his tongue. He waited expectantly for the next question.

  Instead, the door opened and Ren stepped in. Without being asked, he stepped to the center and stood in a circle next to Brandt.

  “Brandt, if we offered the gate to you, would you accept it?”

  He had thought no further questions could surprise him, but he’d been wrong. He imagined what he could accomplish with the gate at his command. Perhaps that was the breakthrough he needed to finally understand how to surpass the cost, even without the gate.

  But he thought of the words he’d just spoken to the Falari elders. The world didn’t need another novice. They needed Hanns in control of all the gates. Perhaps that future frightened Alena, but it was necessary. “No.”

  The next question came quickly. “Ren, do vouch for this Senki? Would you fight by his side and trust your life to his skill and loyalty?”

  Ren studied Brandt for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then he looked away. “I do, and I would.”

  Brandt thrust out his chest at that, a smile on his face.

  Silence settled once again within the chamber. Then, “Very well. You both are dismissed.”

  The two warriors left the room together, Brandt confused by the sudden conclusion of the interview. The cold tunnels welcomed them, and Ana looked worried enough to explode. Regar was nowhere to be seen.

  “What happened?” she asked. “Did they decide?”

  “No,” Ren answered. “But Brandt lied to them.”

  Brandt almost argued, then st
opped. He’d only been uncertain about his answer regarding Hanns returning the gate. And that had been before Ren arrived. “How did you know that?”

  “The symbols on the floor. Their pattern indicates a person’s mental state, as well as a truth or a lie. It is why the elders meet there.”

  Brandt’s stomach sank, but he was still confused. “But how do you know?”

  “I was there,” Ren said, as though he was explaining what should be obvious. Brandt didn’t hear any accusation in Ren’s tone, just a sadness he couldn’t explain. At his confusion, though, his friend continued, punching a verbal hole in Brandt.

  “You want control of the gate for yourself.”

  32

  Jace lost something the day they fought off the ambush. He still laughed and joked like he had before, but where his attitude had once been full of heart and personality, it now felt empty to Alena.

  In the moments after the battle, Jace had practically glowed. Pride radiated from him.

  Then he had hidden behind a boulder as he emptied the contents of his stomach.

  Jace was no stranger to fighting, but he had never killed.

  He didn’t speak much the rest of that day, only returning to something resembling normal the next morning. But it was an act. One they all agreed to pretend was real.

  Alena almost spoke to him about it. She knew something of the feelings that stormed inside of him. But when their eyes met she saw the warning there. For now, he wanted to carry this burden alone.

  So they walked and pretended all was fine.

  Alena gave Jace space, not meeting his eyes often, but sneaking glances at him whenever she thought he wasn’t looking. He endured this because of her.

  They encountered one other group as they walked, but it had been a small one, and they’d been as surprised as Toren, Jace, and Alena. Toren made quick work of the four archers, killing them while Jace and Alena hid behind trees as cover.

  Alena couldn’t bring herself to soulwalk again in the fight. She had tried, but her mind resisted, unable to find the familiar focus required. Jace was too wrapped up in his own problems to notice, but Toren seemed to guess at her problem.

  Otherwise, they walked. Broken but together, they walked.

  When they reached the high point of a pass, Alena found a rock to sit on and made it her new home.

  After years of wandering the plains with the Etari, she’d thought she could walk for days without problem, but the altitude of the mountains and the shattered paths of Falar made that belief an obvious lie. Every ascent winded her, and every descent served only as a reminder she would soon have to regain the same elevation again. Someday, she swore she would introduce the Falari to the concept of flat ground. Perhaps they’d enjoy it.

  Jace approached her rock, having been about thirty paces behind her. He passed her a waterskin, which she gratefully accepted. The sun seemed brighter here, burning unprotected skin. She drank deeply, enjoying the cold mountain water.

  “You probably don’t want to sit on the highest point like this,” Jace observed.

  Alena sighed. She knew that, of course. She was silhouetted from almost all directions, and spotters from leagues away might see her. But she wanted to enjoy the view, and they hadn’t seen anyone for days. They walked through a part of Toren’s maps that was strangely devoid of markings.

  The Etari hadn’t had any answer to their questions about the lack of information. The Etari didn’t travel frequently to Falar, and much of the information in their maps was long out of date. But the maps indicated this was the quickest way to Faldun.

  Alena believed this part of Falar was abandoned. It explained the absence of information on the maps, and it explained why they seemed alone in the wild. Jace accepted that Alena’s theory might be true, but without stronger evidence, he still urged caution.

  Which sometimes made her laugh. Her brother had never known caution a day in his life.

  And she just wanted a moment to revel in another summit, an accomplishment in these high places.

  “Just give me a moment,” she said. “We haven’t even seen footprints on the trail for leagues. There’s no one here.”

  Jace shrugged, apparently deciding it was one battle he didn’t care enough about to fight. Alena saw it as another way her brother had changed since the ambush. She was used to him fighting every fight. They hadn’t seen footprints for some time, and even the path was difficult to follow, nearly overwhelmed with vegetation at lower elevations.

  The question she would have given anything to know was why. Food was plentiful and the game easy to hunt. Fresh water abounded, and the scenery, she had to admit, was spectacular. There was no reason she could see for the area to be empty.

  Toren came up shortly after Jace. “You shouldn’t sit on the high point.”

  Jace laughed and Alena threw up her hands. She stoppered the waterskin and tossed it back to Jace.

  “Fine. I’ll rest somewhere lower.” She stood up, but as she did, she saw something off in the distance, a glint of something that caught her eye. “Hold on.”

  She peered down the mountains, squinting in hopes of finding the reflection again. Toren, anticipating her need, handed her his looking glass. She brought it to her eye, then frowned.

  She wasn’t going to live this down.

  Far below them she could make out the exterior of a small building, then another.

  A town. The first of their journey.

  And the peak she stood on was in full view of several of the roofs.

  Alena almost scampered down the path, but she figured any damage was probably already done. Another few moments wouldn’t hurt, and something about the town seemed off. She could only make out a small part of it, but as she watched she realized she didn’t see any movement. No one worked outside. No one went from place to place. The houses themselves seemed like shells.

  Additional details only reinforced her initial impressions. Holes looked like they had been punched in the buildings, and the curtains fluttering in the windows could more accurately be described as rags. “I think it’s been abandoned.”

  She handed the looking glass to Toren, who made his own study. Toren offered it to Jace, who declined. “Abandoned or not,” her brother said, “it’s a risk we have no need of taking. We should go around.”

  Alena felt a pull toward the structures, but couldn’t decide if it was her own curiosity threatening to get the better of her or something more. Jace had the right of it, though. Approaching was a risk, and one better left avoided if they could. Begrudgingly, she agreed.

  Their short break complete, they shouldered their packs and once again continued their journey. Alena frequently glanced in the direction of the town, but as soon as they dropped from the peak it was hidden by the mountains that surrounded it.

  They dropped back into a coniferous forest, tall pine trees towering overhead, their earthy scent filling Alena’s breaths. Often her footsteps felt spongey underneath her feet, cushioned by layers upon layers of fallen pine needles.

  Jace led them through this section, and Alena saw the moment he tensed. Less than a heartbeat later, his sword leaped into his hands, but after taking two steps, he hesitated and froze.

  Alena’s momentum carried the rest of the scene into view. A lone Falari woman stood on the path before them. She stood almost as tall as Jace, her defining feature being her long dark hair, draped loosely over her shoulders.

  As near as Alena could tell, the woman wasn’t prepared to fight. For one, her hair would get in her way. Two, she carried no sword and her bow was slung over her shoulder. Jace could kill her half a dozen times before she sent an arrow his way.

  Something else prevented her concern from rising: a sense of peace emanated from the woman. Around her, they were safe.

  Alena recognized the sensations, embarrassed it took her as long as it did. “Stop,” she commanded.

  The woman’s eyes traveled from Jace to her. She didn’t seem surprised Alena had notic
ed her mental affinity. With a small nod, the feeling of peace faded. She spoke, her imperial precise. “I’m sorry. But I didn’t want him to attack before we spoke.”

  “Who are you, and how did you find us?”

  “My name is Sheren. I saw you when you crested the peak a league back.”

  Toren grunted, as close as he would come to saying “I told you so.” Alena glanced behind her to glare at him, seeing he had a rock spinning and ready to launch.

  “But I’ve been waiting for you,” the woman admitted, her comment directed at Alena.

  “Me? But why, and how?”

  Sheren looked to both sides of the path, as though concerned there might be others listening in the trees. “I felt you coming. Your ability was easy to find.”

  Jace stopped her. “The Falari don’t have affinities.”

  Alena rolled her eyes. Apparently he’d already forgotten the sense of peace that had stilled his blade. Sheren possessed a well-developed mental affinity, at the very least.

  Sheren didn’t take offense. “There are very few of us that practice the old ways. The abilities are considered curses by most. Which is why we find ourselves here.”

  She gestured in the direction of the town they’d seen from the road. “I’ve come to invite you into my home.”

  “Not a chance,” Jace said. “We should kill her and be on our way.”

  Behind Alena, Toren had come closer, and he kept his voice low. “The town’s not abandoned, either. Not your best day.”

  She fixed him with a glare that she hoped withered his soul, but the smile on his face didn’t dim in the slightest.

  Sheren’s answer to Jace brought her head back around. “Our people have long been in conflict. I understand. But borders mean little to those I live with. We would welcome you with open arms. This, I promise.”

  Sheren’s gaze once again focused on Alena. Alena felt the invitation within those eyes. She nodded her head, just slightly, and dropped into a soulwalk.

  Sheren’s presence was brighter than the others and she welcomed Alena’s connection. Together, the two of them traveled in Sheren’s mind back over the paths that led to the town. Alena admired the vivid nature of Sheren’s memory, the plentiful details that indicated the attention the woman paid to her surroundings. Alena didn’t even re-create her mother’s kitchen in such detail.