The Gates of Memory

by Ryan Kirk

  Beside her, Jace whispered softly, “Tell me more.”

  Over the past two days, that command had become shorthand for using a soulwalk to gain more information.

  Alena did.

  She’d practiced enough in the past few days that she no longer needed to close her eyes. She felt the shift in her mind as she reached out to explore the thoughts of the party below. She explored each for a moment, then answered her brother. “The same as the others. They’re confident and eager for reinforcements.”

  Jace didn’t respond, but she could see him assessing the situation yet again.

  “Do they know how soon?”

  “Nothing definite. Soon enough that their confidence is high.”

  Once the war party was out of sight, Jace nodded. “Let’s head back, then.”

  They climbed higher up the mountain to a small cave that provided some protection and sheltered them from the worst of the elements. It had been home for the past few days, high enough above any commonly traveled paths to keep them relatively safe from discovery.

  Once the enemy had been spotted, Jace took command of their little group, not intentionally perhaps, but completely all the same. Sheren called him her warleader, which seemed to irritate and inspire her brother in equal measures.

  Jokes aside, he was best suited for the role. Toren was a skilled warrior, but his knowledge of strategy was limited. Sheren had laughed when they asked her if she possessed any military experience. “I would be beaten by a child with a stick,” she confessed.

  Jace had been the one who ordered the party higher up the mountain. He argued that the vantage point allowed them a better view of the situation and gave them the advantage of elevation if they were discovered.

  The suggestion turned out to be even wiser than they’d expected. None of the patrols seemed interested in anything besides the village. In their days of watching, Alena had barely seen anyone do much more than glance up the mountains.

  Their observations revealed the lay of the land. Weylen’s village wasn’t just under attack, it was completely surrounded. But the siege, if that was the best word for it, defied Alena’s expectations. Occasionally an enemy warrior might wander close enough to the village to lob a few arrows at exposed targets, but for the most part they played a waiting game, content to rest until their numbers were sufficiently overwhelming the village had no hope of victory. Until then, they wore the village down by preventing the gathering of food or supplies.

  The patience of the invaders, along with the certainty of reinforcements, forced Alena and the others to act.

  Jace estimated the invading Falari had about seventy warriors surrounding the village. They rarely congregated, instead choosing to remain scattered around the village. That scattering prevented Alena from sneaking into the village, but it also provided ample opportunity for ambush.

  Jace came up with the plan and drilled the vital aspects of it into the others. They needed to hit fast, then retreat, leaving little to no evidence of their passage. They would divide the enemy’s attention, opening up further opportunities.

  This was a side of Jace she hadn’t seen before. He assessed and planned, and was surprisingly meticulous in his considerations.

  Though he wouldn’t have chosen the circumstances, she believed he commanded well.

  She ended up being their greatest uncertainty. As their planning concluded, Jace looked to her. “What is the extent of your powers?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Can you blind someone? Or make them flee in terror? Could you make them kill themselves?”

  “Jace—”

  “I’m not proud of these ideas, but I’d be a poor commander if I didn’t ask. If you want to save the Etari gate, this is the way forward.”

  They sat in silence around the fire as Alena decided. “I don’t know,” she finally answered. “It’s possible, but I’ve never tried.”

  Jace nodded. “Then tomorrow we find out.”

  Tomorrow came too soon, and Alena didn’t sleep well. Their situation put her in a reflective mood. Part of her had always understood why the Etari feared soulwalkers as they did. What Jace proposed was a rational request in warfare. But to strip the will of a person in such a way, it did seem like a power that shouldn’t exist.

  They rose before the sun, scouting the patterns of those who patrolled the village. By the time evening fell again, Jace had chosen the perfect place to strike.

  That location was a small widening of a path that passed underneath several sturdy trees. Patrols passed regularly underneath, and while they had a clear view of the village from the path, that section of trail was hidden from other parts of the path. They could attack without being discovered. Jace buried himself in some bushes near the trail while Toren and Alena hid in one of the trees above. Toren would attack first, hopefully disorienting the party and killing one or two before they realized they were under attack.

  Jace would finish what Toren began.

  Alena worried about her brother. Tonight he would be called upon to kill, which he hadn’t done since that first ambush when they first entered Falar. He refused to speak on the subject when Alena brought it up in private. He insisted he was fine, and Alena had little choice but to trust her brother.

  They timed their ambush well. They hadn’t been settled in their position long when a group of six Falari warriors came down the path. They appeared alert, but like all the invaders, focused on the village below. They walked right underneath Alena without once looking up.

  As planned, Toren launched the initial attack. He set two stones spinning the moment he saw the Falari in the distance. The Etari warrior could spin and launch two stones confidently and sometimes managed a third, a feat almost as impressive as any Alena had ever seen. Tonight she assisted him by spinning two more stones, ready for him to launch. Just spinning the stones took all her focus.

  Toren’s first stone struck the last member of the Falari party right between the eyes, instantly killing the unsuspecting warrior.

  The man directly in front of the first victim didn’t even have time to turn around before another stone caught him in the forehead.

  Alena watched, amazed by Toren’s precision. He made it look easy, though it was anything but.

  As soon as Alena felt Toren take the stones from her, Alena dropped into a soulwalk. Time shifted, now moving at the speed of thought. Alena found the four remaining warriors with ease. She studied them. She felt their confidence, colored by their slowly growing surprise.

  Alena saw Jace through the thoughts of the Falari leader as her brother stepped out in front of them. But something was wrong.

  The leader was surprised to see Jace. But after that heartbeat of shock wore off, she saw Jace’s stance through the eyes of a practiced swordsman, a man who had seen countless battles. The Falari leader saw the hesitation in Jace’s stance, the slight widening of the eyes that gave away Jace’s sudden fear.

  Alena felt the warrior’s confidence return, stronger than before.

  She cursed, but there was nothing she could do now. The warrior and her brother were only moments away from clashing, and Jace didn’t even have his sword up yet.

  Then she remembered she was far from helpless.

  She was a soulwalker.

  And she would not lose her brother.

  Alena searched the Falari leader and found his fear, the same fear they all carried. Only those with the true death wish felt nothing in the face of drawn steel. She knew she could take that fear, now suppressed by the Falari’s battle instincts, and grow it into a crippling terror.

  But even the thought of doing that reminded her of what she had done to Jace outside of Landow. She had stripped him of his will.

  And she froze.

  Toren’s stones found both their targets, but it would take him a precious heartbeat or two to get the next stone spinning fast enough to launch. The lead warrior in the patrol stepped forward, drawing his bow in one smooth motion. The war
rior walking just behind the leader, the only other one still standing, turned his attention to the trees above where he spotted Alena. Her attention fractured through the numerous connections in their small space. She saw the second warrior looking at her just as she saw the leader looking at Jace.

  Her heart went out to Jace, driven by instinct. She desired to be with him at the end. She shared in her brother’s paralyzing fear.

  Move! she shouted.

  Connected to him like she was, it snapped the fear that froze his limbs. Jace sidestepped just as the archer released, the arrow flying safely to Jace’s side.

  His trance broken, Jace’s training took over. He moved with liquid smoothness, stepping in and cutting down the lead archer with one move as the archer hurried to bring another bolt to bear.

  In the confusion and excitement of the events surrounding Jace, Alena lost track of her own dilemma.

  Fortunately, Toren did not. He launched himself from his branch to hers, tackling her as the second archer released his arrow. Alena’s world tumbled end over end as they struck tree branches and crashed into the bushes below. She couldn’t breathe, the weight of Toren limp on top of her. She felt something warm and wet trickle down her cheek and then Jace was there, a concerned expression on his face.

  Together, they helped Toren to his feet and made their way away from the site of the ambush.

  They recovered that night back in their cave, each of them nursing new wounds. Alena worried that she had cracked some ribs, but she was otherwise unharmed. Toren had taken the arrow meant for her, but the arrowhead had punched clean through his upper left shoulder and was relatively easily removed. Jace bandaged the wound and cleaned it, and although Toren’s left arm wouldn’t be much use in the coming days, he was otherwise unharmed.

  They had gotten lucky, and they all knew it. After the failed ambush, Jace was the only one who kept a clear head. He had been the one to make sure they didn’t leave a trail, including the blood that Toren lost.

  They didn’t speak, and Alena felt the anger radiating off of Jace. Her brother was upset at himself, but he didn’t realize that. Instead, he glared at Alena. Though he said nothing, she understood the direction of his thoughts. He blamed her for not using her abilities to stop them. He wouldn’t understand how doing so affected her. Frustrated, she stood up and walked away from the camp, finding comfort away from her brother’s angry glares.

  Toren came to her. He didn’t say anything, but let his presence be enough. Alena appreciated him more than ever at that moment.

  “He’s mad at me, and maybe he should be,” Alena admitted. “I could’ve done it. I felt their fears and I could have done it. But then I thought of Jace and I couldn’t. But if I had, maybe you wouldn’t be hurt and maybe he wouldn’t be upset.” She knew she was rambling, but she couldn’t seem to stop the words from tumbling from her.

  Toren reached out and grabbed her hand, the first time he had done so.

  He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t have to.

  Alena stepped closer to him and leaned her head against his chest, feeling the strong beat of his heart.

  She closed her eyes and relaxed. They were alive and they were together.

  The rest they could figure out.

  45

  When Brandt finally met up with Alena he wasn’t sure which of them was in worse condition. Weylen’s war party’s escape had been contested up until two days ago, when the last of their pursuit had mysteriously faded away. Ren believed it had something to do with the nature of the war party’s alliances, but from the tone in his voice he sounded anything but certain.

  Regardless, their war party had held to a demanding pace even without pursuit. With their home under threat, they wouldn’t rest until their families were safe. So when they met with Alena, he was exhausted beyond reason. And she looked about the same.

  Alena’s face felt like the first friendly one he had seen in some time. He and Ana hadn’t spoken much since their fight several nights ago, and neither of them had apologized yet. Their ongoing fight irritated him, and he meant to end it once they’d both had a good night’s rest.

  Alena embraced him, but not too tightly. He saw her wince as they broke apart. “We set an ambush several days back,” she explained. “It didn’t go so well.”

  “You’re all okay?”

  “Except for our pride.”

  A brief period of introductions followed as the assembled parties got to know one another. They swapped tales back and forth, catching everyone up on the most recent developments.

  Brandt liked Alena’s little war party. Jace he already knew and respected, and Toren had a silent strength about him that Brandt appreciated. Sheren was perhaps the outlier, but when Brandt heard what she had done for the group he elected to withhold his judgment. After the introductions were complete, talk turned to the situation in the village. The work that Alena and Jace had done proved invaluable as they considered their next steps. Ren sent a few scouts to confirm the information, but Jace’s detailed report would save both time and lives.

  Hanns joined the circle as the warleaders discussed the options for attack. The unfortunate news was that no matter what, the fight was going to be bloody. The invaders had brought a substantial force and if Alena’s belief that reinforcements were coming was accurate, Weylen and his war party would be in for a rough fight.

  Hans interrupted the discussion. “I’ll do it.”

  His statement caused all the warleaders to look at him as one, disbelief in every stare.

  Brandt reminded himself that the Falari didn’t truly comprehend the powers the emperor could summon. A few of them had seen Regar’s display back in Faldun, but without developed affinities of their own, they didn’t understand. Perhaps, in the intervening time, they had come to believe it had been a deception of some sort. The mind would always search for a comfortable explanation when confronted by the unknown.

  Brandt knew Hanns could take the town if his connection to the gates was strong, but one question needed to be asked. “Are you in a condition to do so?”

  Hanns’ answer was brief, reminding Brandt that as much as the emperor welcomed criticism in private, he didn’t accept it in front of others.

  “Yes. And I need to test myself. Doing so here can save valuable lives.”

  Hanns had been walking most of the day the last few days. Considering their pace, the terrain, and the emperor’s age, that alone encouraged Brandt.

  Brandt and Hanns argued with the warleaders together. It was only when they proposed a compromise that their strategy was accepted. Hanns would attack first, coming up the main road to the village. Weylen and the others would position themselves carefully around the valley. If Hanns’ attack failed, they would launch their own strike from several directions at once.

  They decided to attack early the next morning. They each tried to grab what rest they could. Brandt considered speaking with Ana, but the timing didn’t feel right. He elected to wait until after the battle.

  In the morning, Hanns led the attack, followed by Brandt, Ana, and his guards. Alena and her war party had chosen to remain behind, content to watch and nurse their wounds. They were among the reserve Weylen could call on. Hanns’ fellow imperials all stood behind the emperor, though. When he unleashed the gates, they didn’t want to be between him and his enemies.

  The imperials made no effort to find cover. Brandt itched to at least hide behind a tree, but Hanns gave them no chance to advance safely. He’d even waved away their idea of creating some impromptu shields.

  The first arrows came without warning, shot from invaders hiding in the trees. Brandt never even saw where they came from. One moment they were walking, the next a half dozen arrows hung frozen in the air before them.

  Hanns waved his hand, and the arrows spun and returned on the lines they’d come from. Brandt heard at least two archers fall from their perches.

  The Falari tried again, but again the arrows stopped in midair, and agai
n Hanns returned them to the archers who’d launched them.

  Two attempts seemed to be enough to teach the Falari their lesson. The war party responded in typical Falari fashion. In Brandt’s own experience, the Falari rarely retreated. When they faced an overwhelming force, they simply redoubled their effort.

  It typically made them fearsome foes, but today that instinct worked against them.

  The war party gathered on the road before the imperials, lining up in rows with bows drawn. On command, two dozen arrows cut through the space between the combatants.

  And froze a dozen paces in front of Hanns. They fell to the ground.

  If Brandt had been commanding the Falari, he would have ordered the retreat.

  He heard the emperor’s skill ringing in his head, his own affinity responding to the use of the gates. Brandt heard the songs of the elements, all playing at different strengths, all coursing through Hanns. The emperor’s feats were a combination of awareness, control, and unbelievable power. The battle was over before it started.

  But the Falari didn’t think that way.

  The Falari dropped their bows, drawing knives and swords. With a shouted command, they charged.

  Hans came to a stop, standing calmly in the center of the road. Brandt heard the low hum of stone once again building, and the power of it squeezed his head like a melon. Ahead of them, stone of all shapes and sizes lifted from the road and the surrounding area, cracking with a rolling thunder that echoed in the valley. When the echoes faded, hundreds of small pieces of granite hung in the air like a cloud.

  The Falari charge faltered, expressions ranging from anger to confusion to fear. This wasn’t battle as the Falari understood it. They’d eliminated affinities from their people, and even in their fight against imperials, affinities rarely made a difference.