The Gates of Memory

by Ryan Kirk

  This suited them better, anyhow.

  They enjoyed a quiet meal together, eating before most of the crowd arrived for the evening. That night they retired early. As had often been the case, even after long days on the road, they worked to make Ana’s dream of a family a reality.

  That night Brandt fell asleep completely exhausted.

  They greeted the rising of the sun with another attempt. Then they called for bathwater, scrubbing the last remains of the road off. Hanns hadn’t stood on ceremony when Brandt had met him in the past, but they’d never met at court before.

  After a filling breakfast, they made their way toward the palace.

  The buildings grew larger the closer they came to the heart of the city. To Brandt’s relief, the streets also quieted. The buildings had space between them, and while the roads were still full of people, it wasn’t nearly as crowded as the outer reaches had been. Here, the wheels of commerce dressed citizens in fine clothes and provided luxuries unknown to most.

  Brandt felt tension growing within him. Memories of mistreatment at the hands of such people still echoed faintly in his mind. He cursed Kye for stealing the memories of his friends, but Brandt would have thanked him for stealing those of his childhood.

  Their first full view of the palace reassured him. It, at least, hadn’t changed. Built during the reign of Anders I, the palace was a fortress. Perhaps some found it beautiful, but its intent was to protect. Now that Brandt understood that it guarded a gate, the design choice made even more sense.

  The guards surrounding the palace paid close attention to all guests entering and leaving. Brandt’s critical eye found few flaws in the emperor’s defenses. He and Ana were interrogated multiple times, and while they made it through with little difficulty, Brandt easily saw how the precautions would have stopped any intruders.

  Eventually they found themselves in a small nondescript room in the palace. A few paintings representing the reign of the Anders served as the only decoration. Brandt gave them little attention. They were depictions of stories any school child could recite.

  The door behind them opened again and a group of four guards entered. Brandt recognized two of them as guards who had served Hanns back when he’d first visited the monastery all those years ago. The recognition was mutual, and short bows of acknowledgment were exchanged. The guards performed a quick check of the room to ensure its safety.

  Then they left and Hanns entered.

  He looked older than his years. Only two had passed since Brandt had seen him last, but it looked more like a dozen had. Both Brandt and Ana bowed deeply, a gesture barely returned by the emperor.

  A younger man with more than a passing resemblance to Hanns followed. The emperor introduced him, though Brandt had already guessed. “Brandt, Ana, this is my younger son, Regar. He wished to meet you, as the ones who discovered the gate outside Landow.”

  Brandt knew little about the young man besides what was common knowledge. Rumor had it that Regar had been a troublesome child, but like any prince, he had gone into military service as soon as he’d come of age. He’d served on the Falari border, dealing with the never-ending incursions. Brandt had never served under the prince. His own tenure as a wolfblade had ended before Regar reached the border.

  Brandt had heard stories of Regar’s time, but details differed. All that Brandt knew as fact was that the prince had been captured by the Falari in some skirmish. Some said he escaped and fought his way back to imperial territory. Others claimed a rescue mission had been launched. Still others believed Hanns had bought his youngest son back with promises of gold and alliances.

  Whatever had happened, the young man didn’t seem scarred in any noticeable way, and the conflict with the Falari hadn’t changed, either. They still constantly harassed the imperial borders. Brandt saw a proud young man, attentive and strong by his father’s side.

  The emperor’s eldest son, Olen, Brandt knew even less about. He was considered more of an academic than a warrior and wasn’t well-regarded among military units. Though Hanns had never made an official announcement, Olen was widely expected to be next in line to the throne.

  They all sat. “Tea?” the emperor asked.

  For a time they spoke of meaningless topics. The emperor asked them about their journey, and in return Ana inquired as to the emperor’s health. All the while they sipped at tea poured by Regar, a potent green liquid that started with just the slightest hint of bitterness but ended with a pleasant sweetness. It was some of the best tea Brandt had ever tasted.

  The formalities surprised him, though he didn’t let the surprise reach his face. In their previous interactions Hanns had never been anything but direct and informal. Brandt wondered how much of this was show for Regar’s sake.

  Hanns, as the host of the gathering, was the first to broach the subject that had brought them all together. “I was saddened to hear of the loss of Highkeep.”

  Brandt and Ana bowed their heads. “Thank you for your condolences,” Ana replied.

  “Kyla’s messenger described the power of the attack,” the emperor said. “It sounded much stronger than the one we endured while I visited.”

  “I’ve never felt its like,” Brandt confirmed.

  “What aid do you seek?”

  “Knowledge,” Brandt answered.

  A ghost of a smile played across the emperor’s lips. “I seem to recall that we discussed this two years ago. I know little more now than I did then.”

  Brandt noted Regar’s sudden attention, a light in his eyes that hadn’t been there before. He looked close to speaking, but Hanns answered Brandt first. “You are welcome to any knowledge I possess, save only that known to the Anders about the gates. But I fear I will be less help than you hope.”

  “You’ve made no progress in understanding her power?”

  “None.”

  “Father,” Regar interrupted, “perhaps I—”

  “No.” Hanns’ reply was that of a parent who has already had a familiar argument with their child too many times.

  Regar glowered for a moment, then regained his composure.

  Hanns explained. “Prince Regar believes that some of the techniques the line of Anders use to control the gate might be the key to unlocking the queen’s power. I don’t agree, but Anders also decreed the techniques never be passed beyond the emperor and those who might succeed him.”

  Brandt wondered how applicable a two-hundred-year-old decree should be, considering the weight of the consequences. But he didn’t question Hanns. It clearly hadn’t done Regar any good.

  The emperor stood up suddenly, surprising everyone. “Follow me. Prince Regar, you may leave now.”

  Regar left, leaving an angry wake behind him.

  “I apologize,” Hanns said. “He means well, but he doesn’t understand how important it is we obey the laws Anders set for his line.”

  Brandt quickly finished the last of his tea, unwilling to waste a single precious drop. Then he hurried after Hanns. They returned to the palace hallway where they were surrounded by guards. Brandt noted their movement and training. The guards remained far enough away so as not to be bothersome, but effectively blocked both directions of the hall as they moved. No one would get close to the emperor and his retinue without permission.

  Hanns walked with a determined stride, taking the myriad turns of the palace with confidence inspired by a lifetime within its walls. Though Brandt considered himself an expert navigator, he soon found himself lost among the twists and turns. Another defensive feature designed to confuse invaders.

  They came to a room with a single door. They waited for Hanns’ guards to sweep the room for threats before entering, then they stepped into an orderly study.

  Hanns went to a shelf of scrolls and books. Reaching into a crack between books he pulled on a lever and a concealed door swung open on silent hinges. An eerie but familiar blue glow emanated from a stone hallway. Hanns looked back at them. “Ready to see one of the greatest secrets o
f the empire?”

  Brandt and Ana nodded, and Hanns led the way below.

  The narrow stone corridor led them steadily down. The steps were wide and gentle, but the path snaked as it descended. The blue light reflected in an unnatural manner off the walls, nearly glowing, though they seemed no closer to the source of the light.

  At first, Brandt’s attention was focused on the blue light, memories flooding through him. The last time he’d seen that light he had been certain he was going to die. He found the memories alone were enough to twist his stomach into knots.

  But as they descended and Brandt mastered his reaction, he began to notice the walls of the corridor. They were unnaturally smooth. No matter how hard he looked, he couldn’t see a mark of a chisel anywhere. The connection snapped together in his thoughts.

  “This tunnel was built by the same people who built the tunnels under the mountain outside of Landow.”

  “Astute observation,” the emperor confirmed.

  They passed entrances to other tunnels. Brandt noted one had smooth walls but another’s were rougher, similar to more that he’d been in.

  “You’ve dug your own access, haven’t you?”

  “Not me, but Anders III,” Hanns said. “He worried that in an emergency he wouldn’t be able to reach the chamber in time.”

  “Did those that come before build the palace, too?”

  Hanns shook his head. “No. As near as I can tell, most of the foundation was left by them, but the palace was built by Anders. The actual Anders.”

  Brandt nodded. More and more, it seemed that history seemed to revolve around the emperor who had founded their empire over two hundred years ago.

  Eventually they reached the chamber Brandt had known they would.

  Hanns stopped in the center of the room and gestured. “The gate that founded our empire. The gate that Anders discovered.”

  Like the gate near Landow, this one was a stone arch, carved by diamonds lit by a mysterious blue glow. This close to it, Brandt could feel its power thrumming through his bones. He hadn’t visited Landow’s gate since he’d left the area years ago, but he would swear this gate had a different feel to it.

  The light from the gate flickered then, almost as though it had been snuffed for a moment. The light recovered quickly enough, but Brandt didn’t remember the other gate doing that in the short time it had been active. “What was that?”

  The emperor looked as though the weight of the answer would crush him. “Better you feel it for yourself. Touch it and funnel a bit of air affinity into it.”

  Brandt looked at the emperor skeptically, who gave a halfhearted smile. “It will be a very different experience from before. It’s under my control. There’s nothing to fear.”

  Brandt wasn’t sure he agreed. Touching the first gate he had encountered had filled him with a power that had nearly torn him limb from limb. But he trusted Hanns.

  So he did as he was asked.

  Sensations blasted him the moment he opened his affinity to the gate. He remembered to ride the power, the way Alena had once shown him. The torrent of power became manageable and Brandt sensed a pattern underneath it all.

  Almost as soon as he found his bearings, they were torn away. A force of massive power tore into the pattern, seeking to rip it and tear it apart. The pattern of power bent and folded, but snapped back when the assault vanished.

  Brandt broke contact with the gate, gasping for air. He had felt that dark power before.

  “She’s attacking the gate.”

  Hanns nodded. “It’s actually worse than that.”

  “How?”

  Hanns exhaled deeply, the weight of the confession seeming to hang about his neck.

  “I believe she’s attacking all the gates at once.”

  6

  “Show me again,” Jace asked.

  Alena smiled and made one of the affirmative gestures the Etari used. Jace’s eyes missed little, but his attempt looked stiff. Beside her, Ligt watched on with amusement.

  Jace noticed. “It’s wrong, isn’t it?”

  “A little.”

  “He looks like a fish trying to swim on land,” Ligt said in Etari.

  “He’s trying,” Alena replied in the same language.

  Jace frowned. “What?”

  “Ligt is applauding your efforts,” Alena said sweetly.

  “That’s not what it sounded like.”

  Alena smiled. They were nearing the Etari border, and Jace had spent the entirety of the trip learning as much about Etari language and customs as he could.

  She found her brother remarkable.

  Back in Landow, he, more than her parents, had struggled with the years she’d spent away and her sudden and unexpected return. He found the Etari an easy target for his accusations, blaming them for problems that weren’t of their making.

  Alena didn’t fault him, as much as she sometimes wished to. The Etari weren’t popular around Landow, and years of insults and distrust weren’t easily undone. Jace wasn’t the type to bully the occasional Etari trader who came through town, but he wouldn’t speak to them unless necessary, and he did his best to act as though they didn’t exist.

  Now, though, he needed to learn that which he had disdained for years. His ignorance probably wasn’t a matter of life and death, in Alena’s estimation, but Jace attacked the problem as though he might die if his Etari wasn’t perfect.

  From sunrise to sundown they worked on teaching Jace Etari customs. Most of the burden fell on Alena’s shoulders. Ligt’s imperial was surprisingly limited, and his desire even more so. More than once he’d indicated his displeasure at bringing two imperials back into his land.

  Jace’s efforts impressed her. Though it pained her to admit it, he learned faster than she had on her own journey into Etar. It had taken her a few weeks to fully accept Etar as her new home, so she’d lacked motivation. If not for Azaleth—

  She had to cut that thought off as quickly as it appeared.

  If it was possible, years after his death, his memory stung worse than it did immediately after he’d died. Perhaps it was because she was returning to Etar, forced to face their family once again. But that wasn’t all.

  The young Etari warrior had loved her, and she hadn’t realized her own feelings until it was too late. Though a fair number of suitors had approached her in Landow, she denied them all, telling herself they would tie her to a city that grew smaller by the day.

  True, perhaps. But he’d been part of the reason, too.

  The easiest solution was not to think about him. For two years she’d tried daily not to, and she’d gotten better, until the day Ligt appeared at her door.

  Her brother’s uncoordinated attempts provided welcome relief from her memories. She smiled. “Your motions are correct, but you’re not relaxing into it. It comes across almost like sarcasm, the way you perform the motion.”

  Jace shook his head. “It doesn’t feel like it should be this hard. Why can’t one motion mean one thing? Why does their language have to be so backwards?”

  “Our own language does the same,” Alena pointed out. “If I say, ‘Oh, stop!’ like this,” she laughed and pretended to pull away from him, “it’s far different from saying, ‘Stop!’” She yelled the final word. “It’s the same word, but context and delivery matters. Does that make sense?”

  Jace nodded. “Sure, but those are words, not gestures.”

  “It’s all language. Your stance, tone, and words are all parts of the whole.”

  Jace rolled his eyes, but Alena saw that he at least understood what she meant. A hint of a smile played across her lips. Without knowing, he proved her point. “Comfort will come with practice. I think most Etari will understand your attempts. They were generous with my own mistakes. Just try not to appear threatening.”

  That, she thought, might be the more difficult problem. On the road, she saw her brother in a new light, one she hadn’t paid much attention to in Landow. In her absence, Jace had achi
eved his goal of becoming a warrior, and a strong one at that. She remembered him as a child, diligently practicing every form he learned, the calluses on his palms thick even at a young age. Those years of dedication hadn’t been wasted. He didn’t puff out his chest like a tavern brawler, but danger rolled off him in waves. The Etari, sensitive to such posturing, might perceive him as more of a threat than he intended.

  But that was a problem to be faced another day.

  The sun was near its midpoint when they reached the Etari border, delineated by the Alna River. Here the river ran wide and slow, and Ligt went to find a ferryman to bring them across. The crossing was one of several that the Etari permitted.

  While they waited for Ligt to return, Alena studied the river and the land beyond. Something about it felt different to her, a sensation she couldn’t quite identify. Curious, she closed her eyes and dropped into a soulwalk.

  She’d first experienced the state when fighting a soulwalker outside Landow. And while Jace trained with a sword, she sharpened her own abilities, pushing them at night among the rooftops of the city.

  A vast web of life revealed itself to her, ghostly strands that ran through the whole world. Soulwalking opened the mind to other planes of existence and revealed the connections that bound them together. Alena tended to see them as threads, though she suspected that was only her mind’s interpretation of a more complex experience.

  She knew she’d grown stronger, but she didn’t know how much. At times, she almost wished to meet another Lolani soulwalker. Then she could once again test her ability. But the Etari thought her affinity shameful, few imperials even knew of mental affinities, and the Falari didn’t train affinities at all.

  The exploration of her affinity was a lonely one.

  In the immediate vicinity, a few threads glowed brighter than others. One was a thread she had tied between her and Jace. Jace knew of it, and it allowed her a small connection to him at all times. Two others led to her parents back in Landow. And a final led to Brandt, brighter and stronger than the others.

  Her perception didn’t stretch to the Etari border, so she tapped into the gatestone embedded near her navel. The web expanded, and then she saw it.