The Gates of Memory

by Ryan Kirk

  His attack had been the most powerful he knew. And it had done nothing.

  In response, the prince would destroy them all.

  In the face of such a strength, there was only one option.

  Run.

  The wall of flame pushed forward faster than Brandt could retreat. Behind him, his Falari allies scattered. Despite their determination, every warrior had a breaking point, and Regar’s power far surpassed it. Brandt leaped, but the flame caught Brandt before he could land.

  Brandt tried to channel the heat.

  But even though he served as nothing more than a conduit, it was too much. The power filled him, the same way it had the first time he’d touched a gate. His muscles swelled and sweat poured from every gland.

  Some of that power gave him strength. He landed awkwardly, rolled, and came to his feet, running faster than before. But it was still far too much energy.

  He formed a ball of flame, knowing it to be useless, but he launched it in Regar’s direction anyway. The prince laughed as he again slapped it away. The ball hit a stone wall and cracked it open with its strength.

  But then Brandt was behind cover and he ran as fast and as far as his legs would carry him.

  Behind him, the prince’s laughter echoed between the stone buildings of Faldun.

  42

  When Alena met Brandt in the soulwalk she found herself in a small courtyard surrounded by stout stone buildings and a tall stone wall. She had never seen this place before, yet she could guess the location well enough from the descriptions she’d heard. “Highkeep?”

  Standing beside her, Brandt nodded. He looked haggard, even in this realm of the souls.

  Alena’s curiosity pulled at her, but knowing that time passed differently here allowed her to approach the subject carefully. “Why did you choose Highkeep?”

  “I’m not sure that I chose it,” Brandt admitted. “But it is a place that I’ve been missing these last few weeks.”

  “Is this home for you?”

  His eyes ran over the buildings and the walls, almost as if seeing them for the first time. “Maybe. But what I really miss is the routine and simplicity of monastic life.”

  Brandt led her through the monastery. Alena let him wander, following a step behind as he gathered his thoughts. When he spoke, it sounded as though his comments were half for him and half for her. “I didn’t realize it then, but there was a joy to our days here. From the time the sun rose to when it set all I concerned myself with was training, a small set of monastic chores, and spending time with Ana. The world beyond these walls barely mattered.”

  They entered a hallway lined with doors that opened into small rooms that Alena guessed served as the monks’ living quarters. Brandt lingered for some time on a single room. While it possessed nothing unique that would identify it, Alena noticed that more details were visible here than in other spaces.

  This had been Brandt and Ana’s room.

  Brandt eventually broke away from the sight and led Alena back to the courtyard where he finally explained why he had called for her. “You’re still on your way to Faldun?”

  He barely let her nod before he continued. “Regar controls Faldun, and it’s suicide to approach. We escaped with the emperor and are returning to a town where we can regroup and determine our next steps. You should meet us there.”

  Alena felt Brandt’s emotions more acutely in this space. Between her connection with him and her own intuition, he couldn’t hide behind his calm facade. A storm raged inside him, consuming him. She almost took pity on those he considered enemies.

  Almost.

  “What happened?”

  “I fought Regar. With all my training, some part of me wondered if there might be a chance, some way to turn the power of the gate against him. But his strength made all my efforts and years of training seem like nothing.” Brandt clenched his fist. “But I will get stronger. I will challenge him.”

  For a moment, the conviction in Brandt’s voice made Alena a believer.

  She felt some of the same emotion that drove Brandt. What had begun as a journey driven by curiosity had become something more, a need that demanded fulfillment. After her failed soulwalk a few days ago, she had made a promise that she would get stronger. Her weakness would no longer endanger her friends. She’d already lost Azaleth. She would lose no one else.

  They spoke for a while longer. Alena asked after the others, and Brandt paused when he spoke of Ana. “She’s upset,” Brandt admitted. “This is the first time she’s seen the power of the gates firsthand. She knows how much we have to overcome, but she still believes the queen’s methods should not be ours.”

  Brandt gave her a pointed glance at that. Alena shook her head. “Perhaps when we are together I can figure out a way to teach you,” she said, “but I don’t know how to do it here.”

  Brandt looked disappointed, but he didn’t look surprised.

  Her answer wasn’t wholly true. Perhaps here, teaching the technique would be even easier. She hadn’t tried. But she was still uncomfortable with the idea of teaching Brandt. This, at least, allowed her time to mull the problem over.

  They said their farewells, and she severed their connection.

  Around a campfire, the others awaited her news.

  She caught them up while she ate the food that had been prepared. Toren had assumed the responsibility of cooking, and even Jace admitted that the Etari’s cooking was some of the best he had tasted. Alena almost hadn’t responded to Brandt’s summons because she feared she would miss the first, and possibly last, portions of the evening’s food.

  When she was finished, she looked around the group. She kept asking more of them. But only Jace struggled with their new destination. Her brother put his bowl down gently, but the storm clouds in his expression told the true story. “We need to return to the empire,” he said.

  “Why?”

  “Because this is so much bigger than us,” Jace said. ““We’re closer to the imperial border than anyone else. We need to return and warn them.”

  “No.” Alena took a deep breath. She didn’t want to argue with her brother. “I’m certain the emperor has some way of communicating with others at home. He wouldn’t have come otherwise. And I’m needed here. If anyone can stop Regar, it’s me.”

  Jace almost stood but managed to remain seated. “Alena, do you even hear yourself? I’m amazed by you, but you’re the daughter of a blacksmith. If you challenge the prince, I’m going to lose you for good, and I won’t let that happen.”

  His admission dampened the fire burning in her stomach. The anger bled out of her. “I can’t match his affinity,” Alena admitted. “But I’ve studied the gates, and there might be something I can do. Would you turn away, if there was even a chance you could save lives?”

  Jace’s stare softened. “I couldn’t.”

  “And neither can I.”

  Jace ran his hand through his hair, longer now than she’d ever seen it. He hadn’t cut it since they left. “You know, sometimes I wish I just had a sister who had a passion for baking.”

  Sheren guided the change in their direction without problem. When Alena told her they were heading to Weylen’s village, she’d nodded. “I know it well. It’s more welcoming than most, and not far from here.”

  They made quick progress through the mountains. At times they used the passages that cut through the mountain, but more often they stuck to traditional valleys and passes. As Sheren explained it, they all radiated out from Faldun. While she had planned on using several in their original journey, they rarely saved time in this new direction.

  The group grew more at ease with one another. Even Jace had come to trust both Toren and Sheren, making their journey substantially less stressful. Only once did they come across another war party, also heading to Faldun. Fortunately, they spotted the party from a long ways off, and were able to avoid it without problem.

  The war party confirmed one of Sheren’s suspicions. She explained as they
resumed their journey, telling them of the divide among the Falari. She added that the party that had just passed them was one of those that held tightly to the old ways.

  “So Regar is allied with those who would bring war to the empire?” Jace asked.

  “It seems that way,” Sheren said.

  Jace’s confusion mirrored Alena’s own. “I don’t understand.”

  Alena didn’t either. Hopefully, once they had all reunited, someone could explain it to her.

  As they journeyed, Alena offered what training she could to Toren, but their progress remained slow. Regardless, he never complained.

  One evening, his calm bothered her enough to make a point of it. “Doesn’t your lack of progress frustrate you?” she asked.

  “Of course,” the Etari said, “but I am doing all that I can, and likewise, I believe that you are doing all that you can. Complaint is pointless. As is letting frustration get the better of me.”

  Alena agreed, but agreeing and living according to the belief were two very different challenges.

  Toren looked uncertain, an expression Alena had come to learn meant that he had something to say but was nervous about how she might take it. “What?”

  “It seems to me that you worry too much about timelines you cannot control. The presence of your brother anchors you in the past, where events have already taken place. The thought of the battles before us pull you relentlessly toward the future. But as you are lost in the past and the future, you miss out on what is happening right before your eyes.” He paused. “And the present moment is a good one.”

  The soft conviction in his voice caught her off guard. She looked at Toren as though seeing him for the first time.

  “I’ll try,” she promised. She meant it, too.

  Three days passed. Three days of quiet hiking up and down the endless mountains of Falar. And it ended in despair.

  For when they reached the valley that held Weylen’s village, they saw that their destination was already under attack.

  43

  Their escape from Faldun and the days that followed became little more than one continuous nightmare. At first, Brandt had thought that the escape from the mountain city would be the worst of it. And it had been horrible.

  Regar’s planning was apparent with every step they took. The number of Falari loyal to him surprised them all, from Brandt to Weylen. By the time they made their retreat, the battle for Faldun was almost over. Regar’s forces controlled the majority of the city, and Brandt and his allies escaped with the emperor through one of the last two contested exits. Had they been delayed much longer, Brandt often wondered if all hope would have been lost.

  But their escape from Faldun was only the beginning of their trouble.

  They first learned that harsh truth two days after putting the city walls behind them, random arrows falling among them as they ran. The patrols protecting their retreat announced that two war parties pursued them.

  After a day of running, Weylen made the difficult choice to turn and fight. Exhausted from the pursuit, his warriors still outnumbered the pursuers. They chose their battleground and settled in.

  But the pursuit never closed. They waited, and although Brandt didn’t understand their tactics, Weylen did. “They’re waiting for others. We’re being penned in.”

  A quick conference among the warleaders led to another hard choice. They would separate, all of them agreeing to converge on Weylen’s village a fortnight hence.

  The parties separated without fanfare, and Weylen’s own party continued on.

  Brandt didn’t like the idea of separating, but he understood the logic. The time to fight hadn’t come yet. They were exhausted and on the run. They were reactive. If large forces met, the odds were against them.

  Separating gave them the best chance of surviving and regrouping.

  As he watched Weylen, Brandt also realized that their initial expedition had stumbled upon a war party that held a position of considerable authority in the Falari hierarchy. That realization led to another: Regar had always planned to meet Weylen.

  The more he thought about it, the more he understood the devious brilliance of the idea. He convinced his enemies to escort him into the trap he’d built. Had Weylen died in Faldun, Brandt didn’t know who would lead the resistance.

  It explained the lack of fighting on the road, as well, and why Regar hadn’t tried to escape when Weylen’s village was under attack.

  If Brandt hadn’t also been a victim of Regar’s deception he would’ve been far more impressed.

  Weylen’s decision to separate the gathered war parties eased the pressure of pursuit for a full day as their pursuers decided on a new tactic, and for a while Brandt could almost relax. Perhaps they would make it without too much trouble after all.

  An ambush by a Falari war party heading toward Faldun killed that hopeful belief.

  Weylen and the others fought the ambush off, but they lost two more warriors.

  The next four days were filled with painfully slow movement. Ren’s scouts ran leagues every day, alert for the movement of other war parties. The land seemed to be suddenly swarming with them. But it only proved Weylen’s belief. Regar and his allies had hoped to pen them in.

  Now war parties played an enormous and deadly game of hide-and-seek in the mountains. Day after day Weylen had to make the difficult choice of hiding or fighting.

  Most often they chose to hide. They were tired, and Weylen hadn’t left his village with his full war party in the first place. Many remained behind to heal and to repair the damage the village had suffered. Of those that had come, too many had already fallen in Faldun and the days that followed. Against a fully armed and well-rested war party, Weylen’s warriors had little chance.

  Brandt couldn’t remember a time when he’d been more exhausted. Silence had become customary long ago, not just because of the threat of discovery, but because the energy required to hold a conversation no longer existed. Every bit of focus and attention was given instead to the never-ending task of avoiding ambush and moving like ghosts through the mountains.

  Brandt knew no way to express his gratitude for their Falari escort. Had he been responsible for this journey alone he was certain he wouldn’t have survived. The constant vigilance required was too much for any single person. Only by sharing the burden could they survive.

  Then, nearly a week after leaving the walls, Alena informed him that Weylen’s village was under attack.

  The news lit a fire under Weylen’s warriors. For days now they been beaten down and pursued, with no clear objective other than to survive.

  But no longer. Not only was their home under attack, but it was the place they had all agreed to meet. If it fell, they lost not only their heart, but the whole war.

  Their pace had already been demanding, but Weylen increased it anyway. They rose long before the sun, taking the first steps before the first light of the day. They marched relentlessly, not even stopping for meals. They continued well into the evening, then crashed to the ground where they stood whenever the march was called.

  Brandt also worried about Hanns. The emperor regained his strength day by day, but the going was slow, and the old man couldn’t keep up the pace demanded by Weylen. Hanns walked when he could, but he still spent a fair amount of the day in his litter, carried by teams of guards who never uttered a complaint.

  Brandt felt like something was going to crack. But when it did, it came from an unexpected direction.

  One night, as they were lying down next to each other, Ana asked him a question. “Do you think we’re doing the right thing?”

  Brandt was too tired for the question, and he answered it by instinct. “I don’t know. Does right or wrong even matter? There’s only what must be done.”

  He’d been looking up at the stars, but Ana turned his face toward hers. “You keep saying that. And it scares me.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I’m worried that I’m losing you.”

>   He held her other hand between his own. Sleep pulled at him, but he sensed her unease. “I can’t promise you that I’ll survive, but I can promise you I will do everything in my power to always come back to you. And if I fail, I will wait for you on the other side of the gates.”

  “That’s not what I mean,” Ana said.

  His tired mind didn’t understand.

  “I know you’re focused on learning how to defeat Regar and the queen,” she said, “but I fear some of the actions you’ll take will destroy you.”

  Exhausted both mentally and physically from their days of running and hiding, Brandt finally snapped. “Do you think I like the idea of what I might have to do? I detest it! I know that to deny a clean death to an enemy might make me into a monster. But what am I supposed to do? How else am I supposed to protect you? How else am I supposed to defend the empire that I swore I would give my life for?”

  Ana, apparently, had also reached the end of her patience. She didn’t shrink away from his whispered outburst. “Stop hiding behind us!” she demanded. “You say you’re only doing these things out of your love for us, but those of us that love you don’t want you to go down this path.”

  She paused, then stabbed him deeper. “You’re not doing this for us, you’re doing this for you. That’s why you lied about the gate, even if you knew it would do you no good against the queen.”

  Her words hit with all the force of Regar’s attacks. Brandt opened his mouth to respond, but had no idea what to say. Ana saved him the trouble. She rolled away so that her back was to him, cutting off the conversation.

  He saw her shoulders, softly rising and falling with her silent sobs in light of the stars. He reached out to comfort her, but his hand stopped just short of her shoulder.

  How could she believe that of him?

  Brandt snarled and turned over as well. And for the first time in years, they fell asleep apart from one another.

  44

  Alena looked down the mountainside at the small group of warriors that patrolled the valley. The sun was setting, lighting the underside of nearby clouds with gorgeous pinks and dark shadows. The patrol below them consisted of six warriors, and each focused their attention on the village even farther below.