The Gates of Memory

by Ryan Kirk

  “Someone took control of the gate.”

  The sentence stopped Brandt’s thoughts in an instant. He understood the words, but it made no sense. “The queen?”

  “No. Someone I don’t know.”

  “That’s not—” Brandt trailed off, reviewing the events of the past night in his mind.

  He knew.

  He didn’t understand, but he knew. Only one person had come into contact with the gate last night, and it couldn’t be a coincidence that the first time the Falari elders granted access to the gate someone had taken control.

  If Alena was right, control of the gate had been stolen.

  Stolen by Regar.

  38

  The storm passed through the next morning, leaving behind a brilliant blue sky devoid of clouds. The blue appeared so rich and vibrant that Alena wondered for a moment if it was real.

  Because everything in her life seemed a dream.

  Or perhaps a nightmare.

  She settled on unreal. Ghosts and shadow monsters existed, and she felt the boundary between her physical sensations and the world of souls slowly dissolving.

  Their end of the bargain fulfilled, Sheren insisted that they waste no further time in the abandoned village. Alena wasn’t sure if the rush was due to a genuine desire to help Alena or if the Falari soulwalker knew the village possessed other secrets better left undiscovered by the foreign visitors. Either way, she seemed eager to leave.

  Alena wouldn’t quibble with Sheren’s desire for haste. Her realization, made with Brandt’s help, that Regar had taken control of the gate, made her insides twist. The gates weren’t toys to be played with by any passing child. She knew only a fraction of what the gates were capable of and had come to believe that the first Anders had made a wise choice in hiding their existence from his people. The fewer people who knew about the gates, the better. Their very presence invited temptation.

  She couldn’t believe Regar had stolen control of the gate from under the noses of everybody watching.

  She knew very little about Prince Regar. His reputation, as far as she understood, was that he was brave, selfless, and completely focused on the needs of the empire.

  In short, she knew only the stories that had been spread about him, and she didn’t trust a single one.

  If Brandt’s reaction had been any indication, he felt very much the same.

  Her need to reach Faldun was greater than ever. The emperor suffered from some invisible wound. Alena couldn’t put the pieces together yet, but she had adopted one of Brandt’s fundamental beliefs: there were no coincidences. This had the outline of a larger scheme beyond her comprehension.

  So she didn’t argue with Sheren when the Falari soulwalker ushered them out the door well before noon. Their guide had packed her necessary belongings in less time than it took them to gather theirs. In answer to their surprised looks, she shrugged. “As I said, I’ve lived most of my life on the road.”

  They left the village by the same route they entered. Perhaps it was just the benefit of experience, but crossing the single board over the river gave Alena no problems the second time.

  She nursed a small sense of satisfaction as they left the village. Though their visit hadn’t altered the physical landscape, she felt the difference in the air. Most, if not all, the ghosts had passed on. They had done some good here, however small. No soul deserved to so much as touch that dark void of emptiness.

  Additionally, she had denied the Lolani queen the ghosts. She couldn’t say what good her rescue did, but she was proud of herself on principle. Any action that interfered with the queen pleased her.

  Thoughts of their success warmed her as they climbed out of the valley. Sheren followed a trail that Alena never would have noticed on her own. Given how overgrown the path was, it was rarely used. As they climbed higher, the nature of the trail changed, and she noticed a familiar pattern beneath her feet. The stone underfoot was flat, but not worn smooth. Much like a path high in the mountains outside Landow. A path which had led to a gate.

  The old path made the switchbacks considerably easier, but Alena’s legs still burned with the effort of the relentless climb. Their stop in the village hadn’t exactly been restful, and she dreamed of resting for a full night in a warm bed.

  Jace came to life as the day wore on. He smiled more, and she didn’t catch him staring off into the distance nearly as often. Perhaps it was just time healing wounds, or perhaps something about the village had helped him. Regardless, he once again reminded her of the child he’d once been. He wasn’t healed, but it was a step in the right direction.

  Sheren and Jace spoke often as they walked. The two were ahead of her and Toren, and Jace’s hands moved so wildly Alena sometimes worried he would accidentally hit Sheren.

  She tried to embrace his enthusiasm. She followed his gaze as he turned and pointed out distant waterfalls and unique peaks. She forced herself to smile as he explained some obscure detail he’d just learned.

  And it worked. Between their success in the village and Jace’s infectious attitude, she began to enjoy the climb.

  The whole party stopped to peer across the valley below from an overlook, the four of them precariously balanced near the lip of a boulder. Alena, distracted by something glittering in the woods far below, leaned out just as a gust of wind rushed up the mountain slope, crashing into her with surprising force.

  Already near the edge of her balance, Alena stumbled forward, trying to catch herself with a foot that slipped off the edge.

  Her stomach sank, but a firm grip on her wrist pulled her back before she had a chance to understand her error.

  Toren.

  Their eyes met, and Alena thought she saw something there she hadn’t noticed before. Their gaze lingered for several heartbeats before Alena came to her senses.

  “Thank you,” she said.

  He made a quick hand sign, then returned to the path. Alena watched him walk away, her thoughts jumbled.

  Jace nudged her with his elbow. “About time you noticed.”

  Then he skipped back to the trail, joining the others.

  No matter how hard Alena glared at her brother’s back, she couldn’t quite summon enough fire affinity for his shirt to catch on fire.

  Sheren led them up the mountain until they came to what at first appeared to be a square cave. As they approached, though, Alena realized there was nothing natural about the dark hole. The cave turned out to be a tunnel, sinking deeper into the mountain than light would penetrate.

  “What is this place?” Alena asked.

  Sheren shrugged. “It was built by those who came before. Our legends claim that these were places of refuge.” She frowned. “But I do not think that is all they were. Tunnels like these run through many of the mountains in this area. I believe that long ago those who came before may have used them for transport.”

  Even after experiencing the impossible underground constructions outside Landow, Alena’s mind wrestled with the magnitude of the work she saw before her. Working by hand, such a tunnel would have taken lifetimes of effort. But even a cursory glance at the walls was enough for her to realize that they had not been shaped by human hands. They were nearly as smooth as glass.

  Sheren lit a torch and led them deeper. “My people rarely use these tunnels anymore. Many consider them cursed. Using these will cut days off your trip and help you avoid most of the patrols. Besides,” she added, “most of them lead straight to Faldun.”

  Jace echoed Alena’s thoughts. “Well, I’m glad we stuck around to help you.”

  Alena agreed. This was exactly the sort of help they needed. The tunnel was as straight as an arrow, with no elevation change she could see. Passing through a mountain was far faster than walking around or over one. And not having to worry about other war parties would save them time, too. She lit a torch off of Sheren’s and the party continued on.

  Several hundred paces into the tunnel, when the light of day had faded to a point in the distance
, Sheren’s torch revealed a stone cart. As they neared, Alena felt uneasy. Something about this cart pushed at her senses.

  Her reaction must’ve been noticeable, because Sheren commented on it. “You can feel it too, can’t you?”

  Alena nodded. She had no idea what it meant, but this cart had a purpose greater than she could understand.

  Toren spoke. “It seems to possess a stone affinity.”

  Everyone turned to stare at the quiet man. “You’re saying the stone possesses a stone affinity?”

  Toren gestured his agreement. “At least, that is what it feels like. I don’t actually know what I’m feeling.”

  Sheren became animated. “Come on. There’s something more that I want you to see.” Alena did, driven as much by her own curiosity as by Sheren’s enthusiasm. Those who came before fascinated her, a mystery she wasn’t sure she would ever solve.

  She lost track of how far they traveled, but eventually Sheren stopped. She held her torch up to the wall, where the surface was marred with drawings that Alena did not understand.

  The walls portrayed a series of sketches, drawn with a confident and talented hand. The works depicted a group of people fleeing in terror from some monster in the sky. It almost looked like a giant bird, yet different. “What is that?” Alena asked as she pointed to the creature.

  “I’m not sure,” Sheren replied, “but I believe it is the creature that destroyed those that came before.”

  39

  News of Regar’s betrayal froze Brandt in place. Though he knew it to be true, he scrambled to find some other explanation to fit the facts. Unfortunately, every proposal he imagined was far more outlandish than the simple truth.

  Regar had betrayed the Falari. He’d betrayed his father, and he’d betrayed the empire.

  Brandt couldn’t get any of that to match with the man he’d come to know on the journey here. He’d sensed the bitterness toward his father, but nothing that justified an action like this.

  He didn’t want to believe it.

  As a younger officer, Brandt had always been instructed to keep his battle plans simple. Complex strategies broke like weak pottery. What applied to battle plans applied to life, too. If two explanations for an event existed, and were roughly equal in merit, the simpler one was almost always correct.

  Ana didn’t suffer the same disorientation at the revelation, but she’d never gotten along particularly well with Regar, either. What finally silenced Brandt’s disbelief was Hanns’ quiet acceptance. The betrayal cut the emperor deeply, but he didn’t seem surprised.

  “Why would he do it?” Brandt asked, more to himself than to anyone else in the room. “He loves the empire. He wants to protect it. I’m sure of it.”

  Ana laid a hand on Brandt’s shoulder. “Why doesn’t matter. Hopefully we can learn that later. But we know what he’s done. We only need to figure out how to react.”

  Reluctantly, Brandt broke away. Ana was right. Action came first. Understanding could come later, if it came at all. Though it would be helpful if he understood Regar’s goals and intentions. How could they stop him if they weren’t sure what he was trying to achieve? It couldn’t just be the death of his father. He’d had the perfect opportunity the night before and hadn’t taken it.

  Brandt’s training kicked in. They were in a foreign land, far from the support they were used to enjoying. Ana looked ready to fight, and Brandt already felt sorry for the first enemy who crossed her. He was sore, but also ready. Regar’s guards were a contingent of the palace guard, so Brandt didn’t expect they held any particular loyalty to the prince. But he trusted them less than Ana.

  The far more important, and far more uncertain, question, was Hanns.

  Brandt kneeled down next to the emperor’s bed. “What are you currently capable of?”

  The emperor looked up at him with wavering eyes. “I can feel my connection with the gates once again,” he replied. “I think I could draw on them, but I must admit,” his eyes glazed over for a moment, “I do not think it would be wise to make me the cornerstone of your strategy.” He paused again. “Or any piece you truly depend on.”

  Brandt had expected as much, but without the emperor, their task was far more difficult. If it came to a fight, Regar had a gate, and without the emperor, they had none. Those weren’t odds Brandt was comfortable with.

  “We need to escape,” he decided.

  “We’re nearly in the middle of Faldun,” Ana reminded him, her voice calm. “Even if we escape the capital there are still hundreds of leagues between us and safety, and for all we know every Falari alive will be hunting for us.”

  “It’s not the best plan,” Brandt acknowledged, “but I would still rather take those odds over those of fighting Regar.”

  Ana glanced at Hanns and considered for moment. “I agree.”

  Before Brandt could step outside to give the guards orders, the sharp sound of alarm bells pealed through the air.

  Ana and Brandt shared a look. They had both been wolfblades. If anyone alive understood Brandt’s insistence that there were no coincidences, it was Ana. The bells could only mean one thing.

  Regar was making his move.

  Ana realized the full implications of the bells before Brandt did. He was running to the door when she said, “It’s not all the Falari. At least some are fighting against Regar. There wouldn’t be an alarm otherwise.”

  Brandt froze in mid-stride. She was right.

  If the Falari were fighting one another it opened up new possibilities, and new challenges.

  He considered their options for a few moments, then shook his head. “Escape is still wisest. We don’t even know who our allies would be.”

  Ana nodded, then turned to help the emperor prepare for the journey. She helped him dress in traveling clothes and comfortable boots. Brandt informed the guards of their new orders, unleashing a flood of activity. The guards came into the room and began packing. Others went to nearby storerooms where they could find food.

  Brandt wished they’d better prepared for this. Even with all the guards hurrying, their departure was delayed. Every moment meant the chaos would spread through the city further. They needed to leave. If he had been wise, he would have foreseen this possibility long ago. He always should have had a plan to leave the city in a hurry.

  Brandt pushed the thoughts aside. What was done was done. He threw himself into his tasks while waiting for the others to complete theirs. For a while, at least, he lost himself in the bliss of focused physical exertion. He packed bags and prepared his own gear for the journey ahead.

  Lost in his preparations, he barely noticed the knock on the door. Ana called for the door to be opened, revealing a concerned guard on the other side. “There is a Falari here to see you,” the guard said. Before either of them could ask any questions, he added, “It’s Ren.”

  Again, Ana understood more quickly than Brandt. The lethargy affecting his mind was fortunately not affecting her. “Send him in.”

  A few moments later Ren appeared, his hands well away from his swords. Brandt still tensed and took a step so that he was between Hanns and Ren.

  “Regar and many of the mountain tribes are seizing control of the city. Were you aware of this?” Ren asked.

  Ren had fought them both before. He knew his skill relative to theirs, but in that moment, Brandt was convinced he would draw his sword anyway if he found out the warriors had betrayed him.

  “We were not.”

  Ren nodded. “Good, then we need your help to fight them.”

  Brandt shook his head. “Regar has control of your gate. Hanns is disoriented. We need to run.”

  “We won’t run,” Ren proclaimed. “If we cede control of that gate it means we lose everything.”

  “There is no honor in fighting a hopeless battle,” Brandt argued. “Not when your sacrifice is meaningless. Come with us. Regroup. Once Hanns has recovered from whatever Regar did to him we can counter this coup from a position of greater strength.�
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  “All the strength in the world won’t matter if they take the city,” Ren pointed out.

  Brandt supposed he had a point there. He didn’t want to be the commander tasked with capturing Faldun. Easier to tie a rope around a cloud. But that didn’t change his mind.

  The two warriors stared at each other, neither budging.

  Ren capitulated first. “What if you come with me,” he gestured at Brandt, “and I’ll send several of my scouts to help you get him away from the battle.” He gestured toward Hanns. “He’ll be a target of those trying to take the city.”

  “Agreed,” Brandt said. He’d be a fool to turn down such an offer. Ren’s guides would be an invaluable resource for getting Hanns out of the city. On their own, Brandt wasn’t sure how long escape would have taken. As much as Brandt hated sacrificing the city, Hanns was more important. Not just as the emperor, but as the man who controlled two gates.

  Ana must have agreed, because she didn’t argue. Instead, she stepped forward. “I’ll fight with you.”

  Ana shook her head before Brandt could even tell her that he wanted her with the emperor. He wanted her safe. “The guards here are among the best in the empire,” she said. “My presence won’t make a difference in either case. I want to fight by your side.”

  There were times when it was worth arguing with Ana. But from a single look Brandt knew that this was not one of them.

  “Let’s get going, then,” he said. “We’ve got a coup to stop.”

  40

  They needed to move. The longer she waited to reach Faldun, the more difficult she imagined her task would become. But Alena couldn’t tear her eyes from the paintings before her. It wasn’t the artwork itself. Despite the work being the product of those who came before, she had seen more superior work from artists of her own time. The painting didn’t catch her eye so much as it caught her imagination.

  How long had it been here?

  And did it mean what it seemed to mean?