The Gates of Memory

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The Gates of Memory Page 24

by Ryan Kirk


  Jace broke Alena’s growing worries. “It’s a nice location, but I’m not sure this village would be high on my list of places to visit. And I still haven’t seen many ghosts.”

  Behind Alena, Toren laughed.

  If Sheren took offense, she didn’t show it. She stopped in front of one of the buildings, one that had been boarded up. She gestured for them to enter. “Welcome to my home.”

  The three stepped in, Jace going first, his hand hovering near his sword.

  The room they entered surprised Alena. After soulwalking with Sheren and feeling the depth of her affection for this village, Alena expected to see Sheren’s home more decorated.

  Instead, bare walls greeted her. Nothing inside the room provided any clue to Sheren’s past or personality, unless an absolute lack of mementos counted. A well-used fireplace appeared along one wall, and a mat had been laid against another. Otherwise, a shelf filled partway with food and pots rounded out the extent of Sheren’s possessions.

  “You live here?” Jace asked.

  “This is home,” Sheren said. “It’s not much, but it’s all I need, and I’m often gone for long stretches of time, so it’s easier to live with less.”

  “Why here?” Jace asked. “Aren’t there better places to live in Falar?”

  “Certainly,” Sheren answered. “But not if one actively develops an affinity.”

  “Ahh,” Jace said. Alena kicked herself for not thinking of it earlier. In her academy classes she’d learned the Falari didn’t have affinities. Sheren, and her presence here, made the truth obvious enough that even Jace could figure it out. Of course affinities would manifest among the Falari. It wasn’t like the ability respected borders.

  But those with the gift would either hide it, causing it to wither, or they would find someplace to live where they wouldn’t be bothered.

  Someplace like here.

  Sheren stoked the fire and put some water to boiling as the party settled in. Outside, the wind picked up, causing the boards over the holes to rattle. The air began to smell like rain.

  In time the rain came, but Sheren prepared them tea. They sat together as the storm pelted the walls of Sheren’s house.

  “How many people live here?” Alena asked.

  “Less than a dozen, but it depends on the day. Most of us come and go frequently.”

  “And you’re all gifted?”

  “Or cursed.”

  Jace jumped in. “You must not feel that way, though, if you’ve decided to come out here to live.”

  Alena sipped at her tea to cover her reaction. That was a surprisingly astute observation from Jace. She continually forgot that he was older and wiser than she tended to think of him.

  Sheren gave her brother a half smile. “My thoughts change from day to day,” she admitted. “Most days, you are right. I’m grateful for my ability. But there are others where I wish for a life more in line with customs.”

  Through the open door, Alena thought she saw movement in the rain. She turned to see better, but when she did, the movement vanished.

  She shook her head. Must have been a trick of her eyes.

  Sheren began her story. When she was young, she hadn’t thought anything of her abilities. Elders in her village remarked on her understanding, specifically on her ability to pick up on what people were feeling. But nothing seemed abnormal until a day about ten years ago.

  “That was the day I saw my first ghost,” she said.

  “I was thirteen, and I came across a man wandering near our campsite. At first I thought he might be an enemy, but he carried no weapons. I was scouting with two others, and I pointed him out. The others saw nothing, but I saw him as clearly as I see the three of you. My friends were worried, but I was able to convince them I’d made a mistake, even as the man walked within a dozen paces of us.”

  Sheren sipped at her own tea. “That was when I knew something was wrong. I saw the man again, in our camp, but I noticed that no one else reacted to him, so I kept my mouth shut.”

  Again, Alena thought she saw something moving outside in the corner of her vision, but when she snapped her head around, there was nothing there.

  “You see them, too, in the rain, don’t you?” Sheren asked.

  “It’s nothing,” Alena responded.

  Sheren just smiled in response. “I tried to hide it for years, but we all make mistakes. I made little ones, like paying too close attention to spaces that appeared empty to everyone else. In time, they added up and people learned my secret. I ran from my family before they could decide what to do. I wandered for a few years before I found this place. It’s quiet here.”

  Toren spoke up for the first time since entering the village. “What happened here?”

  “I’m not sure,” Sheren admitted. “No warleader is permitted within two leagues of this village, thanks to an order far older than any elder alive. But I’ve never been able to learn what happened.”

  “The damage is unlike anything I’ve ever seen,” Toren noted.

  “The forces that fought here were powerful,” Sheren agreed. “But I’ve learned little beyond that.”

  She turned her attention to Alena. “When I felt you coming, I hoped to enlist your aid.”

  “How did you notice me? You said you were aware of me before cresting the ridge.”

  “It’s one of the benefits of living here. I said it was quiet, and I meant it. Attempt a soulwalk here and find out for yourself.”

  Alena did. She closed her eyes and sought out the world of souls. And found nothing. The web of interconnectedness that bound all living things didn’t exist here. A chill, deeper than any frost, ran through her veins. This village wasn’t just destroyed, it had been ripped from the threads of the rest of the world. It reminded her, in some small way, of the void she had almost been trapped in the last time she faced the Lolani queen.

  Unlike that void, though, there were some differences.

  For one, she saw ghosts.

  As Sheren had described them, they looked much the same as anyone else. They roamed the streets of the village and some seemed to live within the homes’ walls.

  She knew they were ghosts because they didn’t possess the same threads as the living. Thanks to the complete lack of life, the bonds she, Jace, Toren, and Sheren possessed glowed like gold. The ghosts had none.

  She understood now how Sheren had noticed her. Without the dim hum of a web of life, Alena could reach farther than before. It still only amounted to a league or so, if she was to guess, but it was much farther than her typical limits.

  Alena came out of the soulwalk and returned to the group. “I understand.” She couldn’t quite bring herself to say that she had seen the ghosts. Jace would give her grief for the rest of her days. “What aid do you seek?”

  “There’s a new creature in these woods, one not of flesh, that is consuming the ghosts. I want you to help me find it.”

  “And then?”

  “Then we need to kill it.”

  35

  Say one thing for the Falari elders: once they made a decision, the whole mountain moved to make that decision a reality.

  A smaller group of elders broke from the circle and indicated that Regar should follow them. Numerous guards joined the party.

  Curious, and without instructions to the contrary, Brandt followed the group to the gate. Ana joined him, and before they made it past the antechamber Ren fell in beside them. “It’s been years since the gate has even been visited. Change follows in your footsteps.”

  “Does that concern you?” Ana asked.

  “Of course. But if the elders believe this is the way, I shall follow.”

  The elders led them deeper into the mountain. Brandt briefly considered the massive amount of stone above them, then pushed the thought from his mind. Such thoughts were the equivalent of looking down when climbing high peaks. They caused the heart to race and the mind to lose focus.

  “I wonder,” Ana said, “if you are continually expo
sed to the impossible, do you lose your sense of wonder?”

  Despite the urgency of their steps and the import of their task, Ana’s question thrust him into more peaceful times, reminding him of long walks and quiet overlooks. He smiled. “You’re thinking of these tunnels?”

  “And the gates, and the idea of bringing a person from a place hundreds of leagues away here in a moment. When we were wolfblades, all of this was impossible.”

  “And it still feels as though we are swimming on the surface of a very deep lake.”

  Ana nodded.

  “Wonder is in our own eyes,” Ren said, “not in the mysteries of the world.”

  In response to their surprised glances, Ren continued. “There is wonder in a cup of tea, in the birth of a child, the death of a foe, and in the rising of the sun. It is how we look at the world, not the world itself.”

  “You should have been a poet,” Ana said.

  “Who says that I’m not?” Ren answered with a smile.

  They entered a maze.

  Not as a metaphor, either. Brandt saw hallways that ended in a blank wall. They turned, turned, and turned again. Despite Brandt’s best efforts, he was soon lost.

  Then they came to a massive wooden door. The elders advanced as a group, each inserting a key that dangled on chains previously hidden under their shirts. Five keys, all turned at once. Brandt heard the sounds of massive weights being moved on the other side of the door. His stone affinity sang notes unlike any he had heard before.

  The doors opened smoothly, revealing a now-familiar blue glow. Another gate, just like the ones outside Landow and underneath the emperor’s palace.

  He felt its power coursing through him and stood amazed at its construction. What had happened to those who came before? Their skills were so far beyond imagination. Had they left? Had disaster befallen them? Ren believed they’d been attacked, but what could stand against people who could create such wonders?

  His questions fled when the elders gave Regar permission to touch the gate. He nodded solemnly. “It will take some time. I first must contact him and wait for him to approach his own gate.”

  The air in the room felt thick. Guards took position around the chamber, arrows nocked and hands on bowstrings. The elders made no effort to disguise the truth of their invitation to Regar. His welcome could be revoked, and violently, at any moment.

  Regar, for his part, appeared unconcerned. Either he put on a good show or he possessed an unshakeable confidence.

  With that, Regar reached out and touched the gate. It blazed brighter, causing several of the elders to flinch away. Brandt watched, listening to the songs of the elements as they crescendoed. He didn’t possess the skill to unravel Regar’s techniques, but he could understand the powers at play. He focused on Regar, hoping for some hint that he might use to further his own learning.

  Brandt also admitted to a pang of jealousy as he watched Regar with the gate. Though he trusted the prince to do no more than he said, he couldn’t help but imagine himself in control of the enormous powers of the gate. His mind might understand he stood no chance against the queen, but his heart didn’t believe.

  As if at the thought of her, the gate flickered, temporarily casting them into darkness. All around them, bows creaked as they were quickly drawn. His hand went to his sword, only to find himself restrained by Ren’s firm grip.

  When the light of the gate returned, Regar had sunk to his knees, one hand still on the gate.

  For a moment, Brandt feared the worst.

  But no arrows jutted from his prince. Regar held up a hand. “It is the queen. She attacks this gate as well.”

  Regar stood, his knees shaking at the effort. He was breathing hard, as though he’d just finished a race.

  An elder gestured and the drawn bows returned to the ready position. Ren released his grip on Brandt’s arm, and Brandt allowed himself to relax a measure.

  Had the song of the gate changed? Brandt listened for a moment, at times thinking that it had. But he couldn’t be sure, and even if it had, he didn’t know what it meant.

  “I’ve contacted my father,” Regar said. “I believe we have some time to wait.”

  Time stretched within the chamber. Brandt’s sense of time, already distorted by being so long underground, was now hopelessly confused. If forced to guess, he would have said it was early evening, but it could have been anytime from mid-afternoon to late at night. The elders waited in silence, and the guards never relaxed their vigilance. Regar remained with his hand to the gate, his eyes closed. Brandt imagined he waited for Hanns to signal that he was ready.

  Brandt wanted to talk to Ana, but in the silence of the smaller space, every word would be overheard. He didn’t mind, but it seemed out of place with the singular focus of most people in the room.

  When Regar spoke again, Brandt jumped. He’d become used to everyone’s silence. “He’s connected with his own gate. It won’t be long now.”

  Brandt focused his own attention. Regar concentrated on the gate, a grimace on his face.

  Just then the gate flickered again.

  Regar growled, an almost animal-like roar escaping from the back of his throat. The unnatural blue light faded, then exploded in brightness, then faded again. The guards pulled lightly on their bowstrings, but they seemed uncertain where to aim them.

  Brandt stepped toward the gate, but this time it was Ana who stopped him. She shook her head.

  Looking around the room, Brandt realized the wisdom of her restraint. The guards were looking for an excuse to release their arrows, eyes wide with fear. From the normally unshakeable Falari, the reaction surprised him.

  Like it or not, Regar needed to fight the Lolani queen on his own.

  The light from the gate disappeared, plunging them once again into darkness. A few heartbeats later, a wave of power blasted past Brandt, knocking him flat onto his back. As he attempted to return to his feet another wave rolled over him, pinning him to the ground.

  Brandt struggled and reached for his affinity, but his efforts gained him nothing. He fought just to pull air into his lungs.

  Then it was over, the crushing weight lifted from his body.

  Brandt found his feet just as the light returned to the room. Some elders and guards appeared disoriented, their eyes dazed and wandering.

  Others looked angry.

  And that anger was directed at Regar.

  The prince was on his knees, his hand still against the gate. Brandt got the impression that the hand was stuck, that Regar couldn’t remove it even if he wanted.

  The light from the gate grew stronger, and for the first time in Brandt’s experience, the center began to glow with the same cool blue light.

  It was working.

  One of the guards found his feet and pulled his bow back in one smooth motion. He aimed directly at Regar’s back.

  Brandt could do nothing but shout, “Wait! It’s working!”

  The archer hesitated, looking around the room for an elder to provide him guidance.

  Then the issue was rendered moot as another wave of pure energy filled the room. This time Brandt saw the air shimmer and braced himself against the force.

  The guard had no such luck. The wave threw him back several paces, and he released his arrow at the ceiling. It bounced off, then clattered to the floor.

  The wave passed and Brandt saw an arm emerge from the light in the center of the gate. A head followed, then a torso.

  Another impossible sight, but he didn’t doubt what he saw right in front of him.

  The emperor stepped through, but something wasn’t right. His eyes were unfocused and his step uncertain. He looked old and worn, stripped of his usual bearing. Hanns took one faltering step, then fell forward.

  Brandt was there to catch him. The emperor fell into Brandt’s arms, and Brandt was surprised by how light the emperor felt.

  Beside them, Regar groaned and fell over, his hand finally free of the gate. In the corners of his vision he s
aw the elders tentatively returning to their feet, studying the new arrival. If the elders planned on betraying the imperials, they would never have a better time.

  But one of the elders stepped forward and kneeled next to Brandt. “Come, let us find a place for your emperor to rest. It appears the travel has taken much from both him and his son.”

  Brandt nodded and was about to stand when he saw the emperor’s eyes suddenly focus. “Brandt?”

  His voice was weak, sounding like it came from a place very far away.

  “Yes?”

  The emperor’s lips moved, but nothing came from them. Brandt leaned closer, his ear almost to Hanns’ lips. “… wrong.”

  Then the emperor’s eyes glazed over and his lips stopped moving.

  36

  Sheren’s description of the strange beast was frustratingly vague. It took on different shapes, often those related to a person’s fears. And it devoured ghosts, but she wasn’t quite sure how. All in all, Sheren could tell her little that was useful.

  Which meant if Alena wanted to learn more, she needed to find the monster and study it herself.

  Jace argued vehemently against the idea. As night fell and the four huddled around a fire for their meal, he made his points. “We’re trying to get to Faldun as quickly as possible to stop Hanns from controlling the third gate. That will hopefully help the Etari gate in some way and allow them to keep using their gatestones. Right?”

  Alena nodded, knowing well enough where Jace’s argument led.

  “So why do you want to stop to fight a creature which sounds plenty dangerous and has nothing to do with the gate or saving the Etari?”

  Put in such stark terms, Alena wasn’t sure she knew a good answer. Put honestly, it simply felt right to her. But she couldn’t say why. It was most likely curiosity. She’d just learned that ghosts were real. Of course she wanted to know more. But Jace’s point was valid. Staying here had little to do with their objective, and failure carried a high price.

 

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