by Ryan Kirk
And they didn’t understand the power of the gate.
Hanns released the cloud. It burst forward, none of the stones aimed at any particular target. Instead, they were all flung at their enemies like an angry swarm of insects.
The result devastated the invading Falari. The force of the impacts drove those in the front from their feet, the equivalent force of being shot by a dozen blunt and powerful bolts at once. The only people who survived were those near the back of the charge, and many of those looked grievously wounded.
Brandt looked to the emperor. Any worries he’d had about Hanns’ readiness vanished. His ruler hadn’t even broken a sweat, and he looked upon the remaining Falari with a cold disdain.
They continued walking the road to Weylen’s village, but the outcome had already been decided. Those who survived the charge ran in terror, but the battle had been visible to everyone in the valley. Before long, more warriors came down to the road, but they were Weylen’s fighters, come to report that every invader in the valley was running.
Weylen’s village had been freed, and it hadn’t cost them a single allied life.
46
Fear had many different faces. Some Alena recognized, but in the aftermath of Hanns’ display of power, she discovered an unfamiliar one.
In her travels, she sometimes forgot that she was a child of the empire, exposed to certain beliefs. Within those familiar borders, affinities were largely accepted as a part of life. Limited by the cost as they were, they didn’t often mean much. But they existed. While the depth of Hanns’ gate-assisted abilities surprised her, her surprise was little more than an issue of scale.
But the Falari didn’t have her daily experiences. To them, Hanns’ attacks were a power straight from the cautionary tales of their ancestors.
Today, Alena saw the fear of a people whose legends had come to life. Legends that ended in disaster.
She wondered if Hanns and the other imperials saw as she did. Hanns grinned, no doubt pleased he had freed the town without the loss of friendly life. From a military perspective, she supposed, it was a great victory.
But Hanns had lost something, perhaps more valuable than a few lives, in his attack.
The others might not see, but she did. The Falari warriors avoided the clump of imperials, several of them making small gestures she took to be warding signs. Hanns might have won the battle, but he very well might have lost his allies.
Alena watched Weylen navigate the tricky waters of this fragile alliance. Of course he was grateful that his town was free. Horrified by the means or not, no leader wished for the deaths of his people. So Weylen welcomed the imperials and their Falari allies into the village, filling every open room with a warm and exhausted body.
Greetings were exchanged, but it was agreed that the traditional welcome feast be postponed for a day. Those who had escaped Faldun all appeared to be sleepwalking, and those besieged within the village still jumped every time a cloud passed overhead, worried it might be a flight of arrows. Alena suspected another motive as well: another day would allow Weylen to speak with his people, to calm them and discuss Hanns’ presence.
Alena and the others made no complaint about the extra rest. Toren received better healing in the village, and Alena collapsed into the bed given to her. For the first time in more days than she cared to count, she felt safe, and until this moment, she hadn’t realized how much she needed that feeling. Despite the sun still being in the sky, she fell asleep the moment she lay down and didn’t wake until the next morning.
She woke early, the growling in her stomach reminding her it had been over a day since she’d eaten a full meal. Unable to ask the Falari for directions, she followed the scent of cooking food until she found a long hall where an assorted collection of Falari and imperial guards broke their fast. Seeing the different people together made her think her initial thoughts about the fall of their alliance were overly pessimistic.
Alena saw Ana sitting alone and joined her. The former wolfblade gave her a wan smile and gestured to the open chairs.
The whole village felt as though it was waking up from a long and luxurious sleep, but Ana looked as though sleep was a distant memory.
“It’s good to see you,” Alena said.
“And you,” Ana replied.
“You also look like you fought the battle for the village yourself.”
Ana didn’t respond for a heartbeat, and Alena worried she’d offended the other woman. She liked Ana and had all the respect in the world for her, but they rarely spoke alone.
“I haven’t been sleeping well lately,” she confessed.
Over the course of the meal, the truth spilled from Ana, and Alena saw, for the first time, the other half of Brandt’s life. Ana spoke of their disagreement, leading to the fight that drove a wedge between them.
“I’m sorry,” Alena said, feeling guilty for her role. “I—”
Ana shook her head, interrupting Alena. “I’ve blamed you, Alena, but this isn’t your fault. He would have discovered the knowledge eventually. He’s pursued it too long not to find the answer.” She sipped at some tea. “Once, I admired his dedication.”
Ana focused on her. “Will you teach him?”
The other woman’s lack of condemnation pained Alena more than an outburst would have. Had Ana raged at her, Alena could have fought back. This, she had no defense against.
She didn’t know the answer to Ana’s question. No doubt, Brandt would come to her, probably today, to ask for instruction. Before Ana’s tale, she had decided to teach him what she could, trusting Brandt to use it wisely.
Alena thought of the Falari reaction to Hanns’ abilities, their deep-seated fear of what the gates and affinities could do. Didn’t she believe the gates were too powerful a tool for humans? How was her knowledge any different? Like the gates, it allowed for humans to possess powers not meant for them. And who knew how it twisted people?
Had the queen once been an honorable warrior like Brandt?
Alena shied away from that thought. Better to think of the queen only as an enemy, devoid of history or personality.
She decided she wouldn’t teach Brandt. And that was what she told Ana.
The relief on her friend’s face helped Alena believe she had made the right decision.
Their conversation turned to lighter topics. Eventually others joined them. Brandt and Jace came in together, sweaty and dusty, no doubt the result of an early morning training session. Alena thought Jace looked a bit like a dog following his new master. Ever since he was young, Jace had adored the wolfblades, and now he had the chance to train with one of their best. Jace might sometimes hate her for pulling him on this journey, but he’d thank her now. Toren and Sheren joined the table not long after.
Alena, already finished with her breakfast and feeling pleasantly lethargic, leaned back and enjoyed the conversation. It was awkward, with speakers coming from three different languages, and many people strangers to one another. And yet, Alena felt something here. On instinct, she dropped into a soulwalk. Her bonds with Jace and Brandt appeared first, but she saw the web already growing between others.
Not long after, Ren came to them. He looked annoyed. “The emperor has summoned the imperials.”
The mood around the table soured. With a single sentence, Ren separated what had been coming together. Alena and the others said their apologies, then followed Ren out of the hall and into town, stopping at the house that held the emperor and many of his guards.
Alena had expected the emperor to receive better treatment. Despite the mixed feelings surrounding his actions, he was still the emperor of the most populous lands in the world. But his chambers were no larger than Alena’s.
Hanns gestured them in. If his actions the day before had exhausted him in any way, he didn’t show it. He gathered them around a table. “We need to discuss our next steps. This morning I’ve spoken with Olen. He’s mobilized many of the empire’s forces. Their orders are to approach the F
alari border. He and I are in agreement; our best option is to march the army down to Faldun and besiege it.”
Alena took note. Hanns had been in conversation with Olen, so he knew at least that much about soulwalking.
Brandt spoke quietly. “Faldun’s never been taken.”
“It’s never been attacked by a man with the power of two gates before.”
Alena thought of what she had learned of the Falari from Sheren. “You’ll face resistance every step you take through these mountains. Your forces will be decimated by the time you arrive, even if you accompany them. You can’t protect everyone constantly.”
“Which is why we need the blessing of Weylen. He’s considered one of the wisest warleaders in Falar. We offer him an alliance. In exchange, we’ll help him crush his enemies.”
In a flash of insight, Alena saw the plan behind the plan. Hanns’ alliance would be designed to win him Falar. Alena didn’t know exactly how it would happen. Perhaps after the siege of Faldun, Hanns would leave units of his military scattered about the land. Perhaps his methods would be more subtle. But if Weylen agreed, Falar would be the newest addition to the empire within Alena’s lifetime.
She trusted Weylen to see the same, but he might not have any choice but to agree. Refusal of Hanns’ offer was essentially surrender to Regar and his allies. And Weylen, as far as Alena knew, was interested in closer ties to the empire. Perhaps he wouldn’t be opposed to Hanns’ unspoken plans.
The simple brilliance of Hanns’ plan angered her. Even now, every move he made seemed only to benefit him in the end. It almost seemed too perfect to be coincidence. She didn’t care if Hanns was the emperor or not. She glared at him, her voice nearly a growl. “Did you plan this from the start?”
Hanns’ glare made her want to cower. Though he didn’t display it openly, she could feel the power radiating off him. Even without the gates, he maintained a commanding presence. While he’d always been friendly to her in the past, she couldn’t allow herself to forget this man had a policy that killed those who disagreed with him in public. And one didn’t become an Anders through kindness alone.
“I did not,” he said, his voice colder than the mountain glaciers. “And if you imply as much again, I won’t care what aid you’ve given in the past. Am I understood?”
She pushed out the moment as far as she dared. “Clearly.”
Alena’s question, and the reaction that followed, quelled all other discussion around the table. Hanns nodded. “We’ll meet with Weylen and the other warleaders tonight. It has already been arranged. Is there anything else?”
Alena’s heart sank through her stomach when Brandt spoke. “Alena knows a way to ignore the cost.”
The emperor looked at her, undisguised eagerness in his eyes. “You do?”
Brandt answered for her. “A soulwalking technique that bonds with a soul as it dies. The soul’s strength then becomes the soulwalker’s.”
“Is this true?” Hanns asked.
“It is.” If lying might have worked, she would have.
“Then teach it to us. It will be needed in the fight to come.”
Alena took a deep breath.
“Anders I said I should not.”
Hanns paused, apparently not expecting more resistance from Alena after her first reprimand. “Despite what Anders sometimes thinks, he is no longer the emperor. You will teach the technique to our affinity-gifted warriors.”
Alena cursed Brandt for putting her in this position. He must have sensed her reluctance and hoped to persuade her through the emperor. In private, they might have spoken and reasoned together. But he had taken that opportunity away.
But what Brandt didn’t understand was that she hated orders. Mother and Father would have told him that in a heartbeat, had the subject ever come up. If one asked as a friend, Alena would travel to the ends of the continent. But if the same request was framed as an order, well, they could go to the gates.
In the corner of her vision, she saw the panicked look on Jace’s face. Of those in the room, he knew her best, and he knew exactly what she was thinking.
She knew her action was foolish.
But it was also right.
“I will not.”
Alena felt the warping of Hanns’ power, the preparation for its unleashing. She braced herself, knowing any gesture on her part was useless. Hanns had the power to kill her with a thought.
Jace’s hand was on the hilt of his sword. If Hanns acted against her, she wasn’t sure how Jace would react. She and the empire tore his loyalties cleanly in two.
Alena sat calmly against Hanns’ glare. For the first time in some days she felt at peace. Her knowledge would die with her.
“Get out,” Hanns said. The words were spoken softly, as though if he spoke any louder he might loose the rage building within him. “Out of respect for your service to the empire, I will let you live. But you are forever exiled. Should you be found within my borders, you will be sentenced to death.”
There was no use saying anything more. Exile, she imagined, was better than she could have expected. People didn’t stand up to the emperor. Those who tried were swiftly cut down.
She left the room without a word, no longer an imperial.
47
Brandt focused on his breath, but his mind refused to rest on the sensation. At most, he could follow a couple of breaths before his attention wandered elsewhere. Ana’s hurt glare stabbing into his back didn’t help.
If Ana would just yell at him, Brandt thought it might be easier. But for all her anger and all her disappointment, she refused to speak unkindly to him.
That didn’t mean she hadn’t expressed herself, though.
Competing desires tore him not in two, but into shreds. He loved Ana, respected Alena, obeyed Hanns, and would die for his empire. What did he do, though, when those desires all pulled him in different directions?
Once, when he’d been training as a wolfblade, the instructors had made him complete an unusual exercise. A circle of other candidates stood around him, shoulder to shoulder, about a pace away. His instructions were to stand stiff as a board, arms crossed over his chest. He was pushed, and so fell toward the circle, where another candidate would catch him and push him again.
Forced to remain stiff, Brandt had no choice but to trust the other candidates to catch him. He failed if he lost his posture. The others failed if they let him fall.
Being young and aggressive, the pushes hadn’t been gentle, and it had taken all his control not to break form and catch himself. But he’d been tossed about in that small circle for what seemed like an eternity.
He felt like that now, too. Tossed about violently, his direction changing moment by moment. But now there was no one to catch him.
If he had more time, he might be able to think his way out of this mess, but there was none. Hanns expected him shortly for their meeting with Weylen.
Brandt opened his eyes and stood up, stretching after his prolonged and failed attempt at meditation. Ana glared at him with red-rimmed eyes. He almost went to her, but stopped. What had broken between them would take more than an apology. It would take time and effort. Both of which he was willing to give.
But not now.
“I’m sorry,” he said. He watched, hoping his apology would melt some small part of the ice from her stare. When it didn’t, he turned his back and left.
He would make it right. He would.
As soon as he had the chance.
Hanns paced the small quarters he’d been given. Brandt had mixed feelings when he saw the emperor. He still felt respect, both for the man and the position he held. He agreed with the emperor’s decisions on what the empire must do next. But he wished the emperor had worked with Alena somehow, instead of exiling her. Given what Hanns might have done, Brandt supposed the decision had been merciful, but it still upset him, if for no other reason than he disliked being torn between friends.
Hanns barely acknowledged Brandt, too wrapped up in hi
s own thoughts. Eventually, a guard informed him they had been summoned, and a focus returned to the emperor’s gaze.
Their audience wasn’t just with Weylen. More warleaders had arrived, the next wave of the many that would come. Weylen was still the key, but the emperor needed to persuade more than one person.
They were ushered into a small hall where there were no chairs. Weylen and Ren stood together in a circle of men and women. Brandt assumed he was seeing a group of warleaders and their Senkis.
Weylen, never one to mince words, began. “I expect you seek an alliance between our people, Emperor Anders VI?”
Some hint of menace in Weylen’s tone brought Brandt up short. Hanns noticed the same tone, and a slight frown darkened his face. “That had been my hope, yes.” His reply was cautious, as tentative as a man knowing he took steps onto thin ice.
“What are your terms?” Weylen inquired, his question as sharp as a blade.
“For us to determine,” Hanns replied. “But Regar has committed treason, and he cannot be allowed to control your gate.”
“Will you kill your son?” This from another warleader.
Brandt saw Hanns take the question like a physical blow, flinching away from it. He realized in all this time he hadn’t thought much on what Hanns must be suffering. His own blood had betrayed him, stolen from him what the empire needed most. Now his duty demanded he march against the child he had raised.
Hanns answered the question slowly. “I would prefer not to, but if no other option is left to me, then yes.”
Silence greeted the answer, broken a dozen long heartbeats later by Weylen. “And if we succeed, you wish the gate for yourself.”
Hanns looked uncomfortable under the questioning. No doubt, he’d never tasted this flavor of diplomacy. Even by Falari standards, Weylen’s inquiries were direct. “Yes. At least until the queen is defeated.”
“It is said you already control more gates than her, yet cannot defeat her. What difference will a third make?”
The question finally broke Hanns’ composure. “I’ll only know if I have the gate to try!”