But it was hers, and she was leaving it all behind. She wasn’t sure what to make of that. What did she take into her new life? She searched through her room, looking for answers.
Bayt’s papers were a given. They were without a doubt the most valuable items she possessed, and would help her land on her feet wherever in the empire she ended up.
She grabbed all the papers, making sure that they were organized, and threw them into her sack. She took a variety of clothes, ranging from some of her winter wear to her lighter summer outfits. She didn’t pack more than a few spares of anything. She would need to travel light, and it made more sense to wash than overpack. It didn’t take her long to gather everything she needed. She was surprised to find that all she needed to live fit within a moderately-sized pack.
The pack would carry everything she needed, but not everything she wanted. She couldn’t bring her family. That was the one thing she would have to leave behind for good.
Her last act in the house was to write a letter. She was limited in how much she felt she could say. It wouldn’t be long before the governor’s investigation reached this house, and when it did it would no doubt uncover this letter. So she couldn’t give her family any clue as to where she was going.
She said all she could in the letter. She apologized for leaving them behind, but explained that it was necessary for their safety. She tried to reassure them that she would be fine. And she ended by telling them that she loved them.
When she finished, she was crying.
She wiped the tears away with an angry swipe.
She was angry at herself. Her family was in danger, and it was no one’s fault but her own. This was the least she could do for them.
She hoped it was enough.
Alena took small comfort in the fact that her father would believe her. That trust meant the world to her now. She left the letter, lying open, on her bed. There was nothing else she could do. She wanted to be away from the city before the sun rose. Any longer could prove to be too dangerous. She took one final look at her room and then slipped out the window, leaving her home and her family forever.
25
Brandt’s days passed in a blur of half-remembered experiences. There were long days of walking, leagues of road passing underfoot. He only ate and slept when he needed to. Otherwise he walked, putting Landow behind him.
Whenever he tried to think of his orders, he couldn’t. He remembered traveling to Landow, then nothing until he was alone in a forest in the middle of the night. All he knew was that he had to get to Highkeep. Nothing else mattered.
He held onto that order like a drowning man holding onto floating debris. He needed to get to Highkeep. He would find answers there.
Days and nights passed, and they were all the same to him. He ate when his hunger overwhelmed him and slept when he could no longer keep his eyes open. Beyond that, he walked. When needed, he asked for directions.
When Brandt saw Highkeep for the first time, he stopped in his tracks. For as many stories as he had heard about the monasteries, he’d never seen one in person. Guesses about what happened within were more rumor than fact. Shrouded in secrecy by order of the emperor, the only way to learn about them was to become a monk. Those that took the monastic vows rarely spoke about their lives.
Brandt had heard plenty of idle speculation. He’d heard the monasteries were places where soldiers driven mad by their affinities were cared for. Or that they served to advance a secret agenda set by the emperor. Or even less likely, that Anders I was still alive, moving from monastery to monastery. There were as many theories as there were soldiers to create them.
Brandt had his own suspicions, never voiced. He believed the monasteries were places where broken but powerful soldiers went to live out the remainder of their lives in peace. The mysterious institutions didn’t accept just anybody, but when the rumors involved a warrior of known ability, or a soldier who had distinguished themselves through service, Brandt had always been a bit more inclined to believe.
He supposed he would find out for himself soon enough.
The complex itself was imposing. He stood on a mountain path that hugged the edge of a precipice. The monastery had been carved into the mountain, and even from a distance Brandt thought he could see evidence of a mason with a strong stone affinity. The buildings beyond the wall were squat, but he saw three separate rooftops protruding over the wall.
He started forward, his breathing heavier than normal thanks to the thin air of the higher elevations. A constant headache bothered him. His blood pounded in his head, making him feel like a child was sitting on his shoulders, constantly hammering at the back of his skull with a thick pair of sticks. The headaches had been a nearly constant companion ever since Landow.
The last half league to the monastery passed quickly. Despite the fact that he had not seen a soul on this path since turning onto it, the road itself was impeccably maintained. He stopped a little way in front of the gates.
There was something in his head, something bothering him, a whisper he couldn’t shake. He wanted to be here, and yet, he didn’t. Why was he here? He knew this was where he needed to be, but there was something else, a memory that eluded him every time he tried to pull it into his consciousness.
He gave up after a few moments. He had been feeling the same ever since he began walking. No matter how long or hard he thought
