by Ryan Kirk
They hiked through the mountains for the rest of the day without incident. They moved quickly and quietly, and by the end of the day Brandt’s legs and lungs demanded rest.
They came to a clearing as the sun dipped below the mountain peaks and began making camp. Ren found Brandt before Brandt could seek the warrior out. “Come,” he said.
They left camp, climbing higher up a short cliff that overlooked the clearing. Brandt’s body protested the additional effort, but he refused to complain.
They reached the top, where Brandt was surprised to find the woman he’d dueled with earlier. She had started a small fire and roasted a fresh killed hare over it.
If not for Ren’s presence, Brandt’s suspicions would have had him reaching for his sword. But Ren appeared at ease.
“Brandt, this is Leana,” Ren said.
“You fought well today,” Leana said. “If the rumors of your skill hadn’t already spread, I might no longer be Senki.”
“Senki?” Brandt asked, looking to Ren for guidance.
“A title. It has no direct translation into imperial. Perhaps the closest would be ‘last arrow.’ It is the title given to the most skilled warrior in a clan. I am Weylen’s Senki, and Leana is Merek’s. You’ve now bested both of us.”
Brandt let that information sink in.
“You look confused,” Ren said.
Brandt shook his head. “I guess I assumed the warleader was the most skilled warrior.”
“What sense does that make?” Ren asked. “A warleader must possess a deep understanding of strategy and navigate his war party’s own interests. They must keep their mind focused on goals too distant for most to worry about. A Senki must only be the best with bow and sword.”
“In our land,” Brandt answered, “it is often tradition for those who fight well to be given command.”
“But command of a war party and command of a bow are very different skills.”
Brandt thought of the commanders he’d served under in his time, of the commander they’d met in the fort at the border. He thought of his own doomed command. Even after all these years, the deaths of his wolfblades remained a wound that refused to heal. “Perhaps there is wisdom in your way,” he admitted.
The three warriors sat around the small fire while watching over the campground. Up here, there was no formality. Ren and Leana seemed acquainted, but they spoke imperial for Brandt.
Ren pulled out a flask, took a long pull, and handed it to Brandt.
Brandt didn’t drink often anymore. But a flask had rarely looked more inviting. He took a long sip.
And almost spit it out.
The blend was stronger than anything he’d put down his throat before. It burned, and he coughed as he passed it over to Leana, who drank without reaction.
Ren laughed. “Good, yes?”
Brandt just coughed again and nodded. But when Ren offered him another pull, he didn’t refuse.
It wasn’t just the taste that was strong, either. Granted, he’d been walking all day and hadn’t had much to eat, but before long he felt a lightness in his soul that hadn’t been there in some time.
Before long they were swapping stories. Through the tales of his new friends, Brandt learned more about life in Falar. Both Ren and Leana had been shaped by lives of continual fighting. If they weren’t on the border with the empire they were out patrolling their own lands, a practice that sounded far less safe than an imperial guard patrolling the walls of a town. Attacks from neighboring clans were as common as summer storms.
In time, the flask was empty and the rabbit eaten. Their conversation turned to more serious matters.
Brandt directed his question at Ren. “What happened this morning?”
“You were being judged.”
“Why me?”
“Because you are Regar’s Senki.”
“Shouldn’t Regar have been tested?”
Leana answered that question. “Regar’s purpose is known. His true test will come before the elders. Merek wanted to know what kind of warrior Regar had in his service.”
“Why?” Brandt asked.
“Because a warleader is judged by the skill and actions of his warriors, and a Senki most of all,” Leana answered.
“So if I lost, Merek would have fought?”
Ren shook his head. “You don’t understand. Winning or losing was only part of it. Merek wanted to see how you fight. You could have killed Leana without consequence, just as she could have killed you. You could have raged, either in victory or defeat. It was your character he most sought to learn, not your skill. Even if you’d won, but not impressed him, he might have left or blocked our way.”
“Because my character is a reflection of Regar’s?”
Both his friends nodded.
The idea didn’t sit well with him. “He could have just asked.”
“There are times when speaking isn’t nearly enough,” Leana said. “The only way to truly know a person is to fight them.”
Brandt nodded. That, at least, was a philosophy he’d espoused for many years.
Strangely, at that moment he felt more at home here than he did in the empire. He was fond of his fellow monks and admired their dedication to their development, but they were a small part of the larger empire. Most citizens never fought for anything. They never risked their lives or livelihood for anything.
Brandt heard the echoes of Regar’s arguments in his own thoughts. For the first time, he understood. Perhaps Falar had something to teach them.
“So Merek and his clan have joined us? It’s that simple?” Brandt was still confused on that point.
Ren laughed. “It’s never simple, Brandt. Merek leads a mountain tribe. They are more nomadic and keep closer to the old ways than we do. Regar’s arrival couldn’t have come at a more challenging time for our people. We are split between the old ways and the desire for change. Merek has kept his own thoughts and intentions well-hidden over the years.”
Leana jumped in. “He hasn’t been willing to commit to either cause. He sees strengths and faults in both approaches. But the matter must be decided.”
“What matter?” Brandt asked.
The two warriors glanced at each other, as though wondering if the other would speak first. Eventually, Ren answered. “Whether we should seek peace with the empire or invade it.”
26
Although Alena understood the importance of haste, she couldn’t leave Etar without exploring the gate one last time. Answers hid within the object, knowledge that had been buried for generations.
When Alena asked for permission, Dunne’s uncertainty was evident. Certainly the elders worried Alena might not obey their commands regarding control of the gate.
And Alena was tempted.
Command of a gate opened up possibilities of tremendous power. Hanns’ desire was one she understood. She could help in the fight against the queen and she could pull enough power to ensure the Etari gatestones never failed in her lifetime. Controlling the gate solved several of her problems.
On her own, the temptation might have been too great. But she wouldn’t disobey the Etari elders. She owed them too much.
Dunne, at least, trusted her enough to connect again with the gate. The elder reluctantly gave Alena permission to explore the gate one more time. Alena swore she wouldn’t disappoint Dunne.
She and Toren woke early the next morning. Accompanied by Jace, they made their way to the center tent. A now-familiar twisting sensation in Alena’s stomach told her the gate had just failed. This close, she didn’t even have to use her gatestone to know.
After perhaps a dozen heartbeats, the sensation faded. Alena connected with her gatestone to confirm. The gate had resumed working.
That, at least, was one worry off her shoulders. In her time here, the gate didn’t fail often. At most, maybe once or twice a day. She and Toren would be safe to explore for a while.
The process of connecting with the gate was almost familiar to her now. She d
idn’t hurry, despite her eagerness.
She escorted Toren to a safe place, as usual, taking the form of the plains beyond the sea. His growing comfort with the gate helped. Soon, maybe, she would take him deeper, if more opportunities came. But for now he anchored her. His curiosity and desire to go deeper were apparent, but he accepted his role without complaint.
After he wished her luck, Alena dropped deeper into the limitless power of the gate. Again, energy threatened to rip her limb from limb. She still fought the instinct to control. Muscle by muscle she relaxed her body, and in time, the feeling of being filled beyond bursting passed.
The vast web of interdependency formed around her. She floated within it, giving her mind time to come to terms with the flood of information pouring into her. Her reactions seemed a bit faster than before. Perhaps it was illusion, or perhaps her mind was learning to navigate this space. She hoped for the latter.
The representation of the gate stood before her, bright yet insubstantial. She drifted closer, studying it.
The temptation to dive deeper still nearly overpowered her. But she waited and observed.
The gate shifted in front of her as her mind wrestled with concepts beyond her understanding. At times she saw the diamond structure of the gate. At other times she thought she noticed something underneath, a latticework of indescribable complexity.
Alena drifted closer, careful not to interact directly with it. The latticework resolved as she focused, countless tiny threads woven and knotted in a pattern that remained just outside her understanding.
Ever so slowly, she ran her eyes up and down the lattice. It was a soulwork, but more. It seemed to include threads of the other elements as well. The barrier at the border looked like a child’s craft in comparison. If this was the work of those who came before, what else had they been capable of, and why had they disappeared?
Abruptly, the pattern changed. She squinted, unsure of what had shifted. Carefully she ran her eyes back and the pattern returned to familiarity.
Alena focused on the change. The pattern of the gate remained, but threads had been woven on top.
She frowned. The new threads were intricate, but not of the same quality of the gate itself. With a start, she realized they’d been added later.
“I’m impressed.”
The voice came from behind her, and Alena lost all focus. The latticework disappeared, replaced by the diamond exterior of the gate. Alena spun around, but in this space it turned into more of a slow twirl. She saw nothing.
“Relax. Focus on me here.”
This time, it sounded like the voice came from in front of her. Alena focused on where she believed the voice had come from.
Just as the latticework resolved itself before her attention, a figure slowly began to appear, a ghostly apparition. Before long she looked into the face of a middle-aged woman. Her features were Etari. Alena guessed who she was looking at. “Zolene.”
The woman smiled. She still didn’t appear solid. Webs of life glowed behind her, almost making it look as though the web surrounded her. “You know me.”
Alena nodded, then realized she didn’t know if her actions translated here. “Your people still tell stories of you.”
“And you have heard them.”
“I have.”
“Then why are you here?”
“The gate is failing. My family summoned me to see if there was anything I could do.”
Zolene made a hand sign, but it wasn’t substantial enough in Alena’s vision for her to catch. “I have seen glimpses of your life. You are not Etari.”
“I am not. I come from the empire.”
“You are a servant of Anders?” The voice sounded disembodied, but Alena felt the emotion behind it. Zolene hated Anders.
Alena wasn’t sure how to answer. She knew Zolene considered her response important. “No. I am of two worlds. I serve my blood family and my Etari family.”
Alena sensed confusion, but faintly. Zolene stood in front of her, but she wasn’t whole. Every emotion Alena noticed felt mild, nearly lethargic. She tried a different approach. “I want to stop your gate from failing. Can you help me?”
The apparition didn’t answer. “Are there no soulwalkers among the Etari?”
“No. You were among the last.”
A surge of pride rushed over Alena, the satisfaction of a task completed well.
Alena’s curiosity burned hot. “What happened? Why did you demand the Etari give up soulwalking?”
“Because soulwalking calls them.”
Frustrated at the nonsensical answer, Alena reached out to grab the apparition. It was the act of a moment. She didn’t know if she meant to shake Zolene or support her, but when her hand touched the ghost, something passed between them.
Visions flashed through her, fragmented. She glimpsed the battle that Zolene had waged against Anders, watched as Zolene wove her own spirit with that of the Etari gate, granting her control over the object.
And she saw more. Shadows crossing over the land, enormous and filled with power.
Danger from the skies.
The moment passed. When her eyes refocused, Zolene stood in front of her, more solid than before. Alena understood that Zolene now drew on the connection between them. Alena felt Zolene’s emotions like a blanket over her own.
When Zolene spoke again, her voice was clear. “Anders only understood near the end. His aims were noble enough, I suppose. He wanted peace and yet enemies gathered on all sides. And he was clever. Too much so for his own good. He was the one who first commanded the gate, and it was the mistake that led to all others.”
Alena shook her head. “I don’t understand.”
Zolene’s smile was sad. “You will. Thank you for assisting my people. Perhaps you can right what Anders, myself, and Sofra wronged.”
“Sofra?”
Zolene focused for a moment. “The one you call the Lolani queen.”
“You knew her?”
“In a way.”
“Can you help me repair your gate?”
No. Now that Zolene was more solid Alena had no problem deciphering the gesture. “Not directly. But we can take the first step today.”
“What do you mean?”
She fixed Alena with a stare that froze Alena in place. Back home, eyes were considered windows to the soul, but here, Zolene could actually see Alena’s thoughts. And Alena could see the weight Zolene carried. She was proud of her people, but barely contained a sadness that knew no limits.
“The gates cannot be controlled, Alena. I think you will learn that soon enough, but for now you must trust, the way the Etari elders do. We were fools to try. I tied myself to the gate to control it, and today you must cut me free.”
“What?”
“My soul is tied to the gate. I should have died long ago, but I cannot pass death’s gate. And I must.”
“You want me to kill you?”
“I want you to free me. I died a long time ago.”
“But I need your help. I need your guidance!”
The sad smile reappeared on Zolene’s face. “That, you certainly don’t. If you trust my words and don’t attempt to control the gate, you will be fine. The gates can be guided, and they can be learned from, but control is an illusion. A dangerous one.”
Alena was frozen. Zolene had the answers she desired. She couldn’t release Zolene, not when she was this close.
Zolene, in this space, understood her conflict. “Your answers shouldn’t come from me.” She stepped toward the gate. “The gate already possesses my memories, as it does so many others. It is power, but it is also history. Everything you need to know is in this gate. In all the gates.”
“But we’re leaving tomorrow,” Alena protested, and the words sounded weak even to her.
“And you can speak to friends nearly on the other side of the continent. What does distance matter? Being close to the gate simply makes it easier.”
“Why won’t you just answer my questi
ons?”
“Because I don’t want you trapped in my patterns of thinking. The only answers that will serve you are those that you find yourself. If we had taken the time to study these gates more closely, we would have learned, too. But we were driven by more immediate, petty needs.”
Alena didn’t know what to say to that. She didn’t know what to say to any of this. But she sensed no deception from Zolene. The Etari legend desired her release. Alena alone could make that happen, and after the woman had spent two hundred years trapped here, who was she to deny the wish?
“Will you free me?”
“I will. But is there nothing you can tell me to guide me?”
She felt Zolene’s sympathy. “Do not make the same mistakes we did. Explore. Understand. Trust your instincts. We’re all connected to a web that knows and understands far more than we can comprehend. Listen to it. And trust in yourself. I do.”
Alena frowned. “That’s less useful than I’d hoped.”
Zolene didn’t take offense. “If there is one direction that I hope is useful, it is this: control is always an illusion. Never fall for the same fallacy we did. Events can be guided, but no more.”
Alena realized she wouldn’t get anything more from Zolene’s spirit. It would have to be enough. “Thank you.”
Together they stared at the gate. “You’re the weaving on top of the gate, aren’t you?”
Yes. “It was my attempt at control.”
“Removing you won’t harm the gate further?”
No. “If anything, it will allow the source to flow more reliably to it.”
Alena remembered how intricate the weaving had been. “What if I cut part of the gate?”
Zolene smiled. “The weaving of the gate is capable of fixing itself, to an extent. So long as you don’t intentionally seek to destroy the gate, I do not think there is anything you could do that would injure it permanently.”
“You think I could destroy the gate?”
To that, Zolene gave no answer, and Alena caught no hint of emotion in their bond.
Their bond. “I won’t accompany you to death’s gate, will I?” The idea of stealing Zolene’s power in that way struck Alena as wrong.